Letters

It started out like any other snowstorm that I can recall. The dainty flakes were descending slowly from the dark gray sky as if to show the world it could not be rushed.

I was 14 and I had just gotten off the school bus when I noticed the first sign of accumulation. The ground looked like it needed a good sweeping as the first fallen snowflakes swirled about on the dark asphalt. I wondered, could this amount to anything worthy of a school cancellation?

This was not to be your average snowstorm -- this was the Blizzard of'78. In only a few hours, the flakes became larger and were descending at an angle instead of straight down due to the ever-increasing winds. My friend and I had to walk to the store to purchase the mandatory storm staples: milk and bread.

The 15-minute walk seemed fun enough at first. We were enjoying the wind blowing at our backs and joked about how the storm was ordered specifically to assist us in our quest.

The return trip, however, was no laughing matter. The snow was driving straight at us. Trying to see our path through the snow-covered sidewalk was getting harder by the minute. The accumulation was such that it created a continuous surface, making it difficult to decipher where the sidewalk ended and where the street began. Our vision was impaired, also. We could not keep our eyes open for any length of time because the flakes would find their way in between blinks.

We decided to make the best of a bad situation. We imagined we were American soldiers in Russia, during a winter in World War II. Our mission: get milk to Mom. We forced our way through the merciless storm. We grew increasingly weary with each step from pushing our bodies against the fierce wind and blinding snow. Even though we felt adventurous in the storm, we were both glad to get back to the warmth and safety of our homes.

The days following the blizzard are among the most memorable for me. Everybody in my town was without electricity, unless they were lucky enough to own a generator. I loved the way my house looked at night. There were candles that bathed my home in a soft glow and created dancing shadows on the walls. The warmth and light of the fireplace made my home cozier still.

I felt like a pioneer girl. With the absence of television and radio, my family and I were forced to rely on the old-fashioned way of entertainment. We played games, read stories and told jokes.

I will not soon forget the way my neighborhood looked during the day. When I stepped outside, I was instantly blinded by a tidal wave of bright light. Once my eyes had adjusted to the glare of the snow, I was completely astounded by the images set before my eyes.

The most amazing aspect, to me, of what this blizzard brought about was the incredible transformation I witnessed in the way my neighbors behaved. Only days before, all these families were busy with the daily routine of life. They were hurrying off to work or school. They were rushing to their doctor's appointments, playing taxi to their children or going from errand to errand. It was understandably an exhausting lifestyle.

The people in my neighborhood, including my family, were simply too busy and tired to connect with each other. But now, families would be out in the streets, pulling sleds, on their way to or from the grocery store. The almost extinct courtesy of saying hello, to a passerby in the street, was revived. Everybody seemed to be more relaxed and friendly. The people shared a common bond since no one could go to work or use their car.

-- Mary Urbanek, North Dartmouth

On the day of the '78 blizzard I was getting ready to take the two poodles for their haircuts.

I left about 8 o clock in the morning to go to Fall River. I left them there and came back home.

I received a phone call from the man at the shop at 2:30 p.m. for us to pick them up. The snow was really coming down.

My husband Frank said "I think I'd better take the truck," as he used to work on construction and of course it's easier to get around in.

On the way home there were a lot of cars stuck on the highway. I told my husband "let's stay at the hotel," but of course, he refused. He said: "I brought them (dogs) and they are going back home now."

We did have a lot of laughs that night with my family because as we got into my driveway the car stalled, and it wouldn't move. He was so mad and said "this is it. It's staying right here," which it did all night.

So that was our experience but it turned out OK. The puppies looked cute.

-- Linda R. Motta, New Bedford

At 4:30 p.m. on Feb. 6, 1978, I was heading into work. I didn't have to be to work until 6 p.m. but I thought I would give someone a chance to get home before we got buried.

At the time I was assigned to Engine Co. #1 at New Bedford's Fire Station. I only had about 1½ years on the job. At about 5:15 p.m., we received a fire alarm at one of the old Tech buildings on Purchase Street. We could not make it to the intersection at Hillman and Purchase street because it was already jammed with stranded cars in the drifts. So we went up North Street to Country and headed north. Between shoveling ourselves out and helping other motorists, it was around 9 p.m. before we got to the location. It was a good thing that there was no fire.

To this day I consider it nothing short of a miracle that we had no fires during that time, because we would have lost whatever was burning and anything around it.

We spent the whole night assisting and digging out cars in order to keep any streets open that we could. We also had a station full of motorists that the Civil Defense had brought down. Needless to say, we ran out of coffee, soda and most of the snacks we kept in our cooler.

The next morning, a lot of us had to stay beyond our shifts to cover for the men who couldn't get to work. Two friends of mine walked in from the North End of the city, one from as far north as Marion Street.

It was a night that is branded in my memory forever. My arms were sore from shoveling and pushing cars. But I wouldn't have missed it for anything.

-- Robert J. Lopes, New Bedford

Our family will never forget the Blizzard of '78. My husband was working the second shift at Continental Screw. My oldest son, who was home at the time, used my husband's car, dropped him off at work at 3 p.m. and was to pick him up at 11 p.m.

Well, we fell asleep (me and my son) and my poor husband who was waiting outside for him was offered a couple of rides, but refused because my son was to pick him up.

After a while he decided to start walking home with the hope of meeting him on the way, but it never happened.

He walked from Continental Screw to Adams Street, Fairhaven near Route 6. It took him three hours to get home. He was frozen and looked like the Abominable Snowman. It sounds funny now, but it sure wasn't funny that night. It was a night we'll never forget -- especially him.

-- Janet Menard, Fairhaven

I was so excited with the storm, I decided to take my sons out for a sled ride. Aaron was 5 and his baby brother was going to turn 1 on Feb. 12.

The girl next door had the perfect sled with side bars for a baby to ride safely. I asked her if I could borrow it she said yes, and off we went.

We went walking from Cleveland Street, down Brock Avenue and by a lot of side streets. too.

Along the way we saw their father out shoveling the neighbors walkways to make extra money for food; his regular job was slow.

I'll never forget taking that wonderful walk in the mountains of white snow.

-- Deborah Westgate, New Bedford

The Blizzard of 1978 was great if you were a kid. At the time, I was a fifth grade student at the Holy Family-Holy Name Grammar School in New Bedford.

I remember the day it began snowing. From my classroom the skies looked very dark and gray. As the snow collected, my classmates asked our teacher for permission to phone their parents to pick them up from school. I was lucky, because in the middle of the afternoon session, who should appear at the door of the fifth grade classroom (without my phoning them) but my parents. I was very happy to get out of school just that day. I had no clue that New Bedford school kids were about to get an extra week of winter vacation.

Outside was a winter wonderland and a kid's dream: no school, lots of snow on the ground and more falling. I remember having fun playing in the snow until I was exhausted, but I also remember news clips of cars in Boston buried in snow, cars stuck on Route 128, and damage the storm caused to property on the South Shore.

It's hard to believe that the blizzard in the very snowy winter of 1978 was 25 years ago.

-- Robert A. McIntyre, Fairmont, W. Va.

Our family rented a house for the ski season near Sugarloaf Mountain in Maine during the winter of 1977-'78. Every Friday night we would pack up our station wagon with our gear, food and our three sons and head to Maine for a fun weekend and return on Sunday night.

The weekend before the blizzard, our oldest son, Steve, invited three friends -- Mark, Renee and Gigi -- to join us. Mark was able to use a family car to transport the four of them, and my husband and I with our sons, Shaun and Mike followed them. As we were driving along the Maine turnpike, we spotted their car in the breakdown lane and pulled over. Next we went into Kennebunk to get a tow truck to haul the car to a garage. We were told the car would not be ready until Monday. How we managed to fit everyone with their ski equipment into the station wagon I'll never know, but we continued on our way. We contacted Mark's father and told him we would stay in Maine until Monday and pick up the car on our way back. On Monday morning we sent skiing and at noon called New Bedford to inform them were were on our way only to be told New Bedford was in the midst of a blizzard and we wouldn't be able to drive home. The house we were renting did not have a television set and the only radio station we could get was Sugarloaf USA, so we had no idea what was going on down here.

The storm hit Maine Monday night and snowed all day Tuesday, but on Wednesday the roads were plowed and we were able to hit the slopes. Each night we would call New Bedford only to be told the highways were still closed.

When we went away, we would take the extra money for emergencies, but never figured on paying for ski lift tickets and feeding six kids for a week. Our friends, Jay and Arlette, who shared the rental of the house with us had left Sugarloaf on the Sunday and were housebound for the week, but they left a five pound can of ham at the ski house that we made good use of.

Luckily, we had recently obtained our first credit card and there was a bank branch at the mountain where we were able to get a cash advance. It was the first time we had used a credit card, and we haven't stopped using them since.

Each night we'd call New Bedford and ask, "Can we come home?" and the reply remained the same, "No the roads are closed." So what else could we do but go skiing again. There were very few skiers on the slopes that week, and it was the best skiing we ever had.

Finally, the following Saturday, we were told we could head home. Even then, some of the highways were not open and we had to detour through some secondary roads. All the way home we wondered how we were ever going to shovel out our driveway a week after the storm. Much to our surprise, our driveway had been shoveled. Mark's father, younger brother and neighborhood friends had cleared the driveway for us. Imagine, after all the snow they shoveled at their own homes to do that for us. What a tremendous feeling it was to know we had such thoughtful friends.

-- Pat Walsh, New Bedford

What I remember most was that complete strangers were willing to lend a helping hand in any way they could. The worst part for me was something that led to a funny story; funny now, but not funny at that moment.

There was a good friend and neighbor who stopped by to help me shovel out my car. This well-meaning friend was shoveling the back end of the car, two other people were going by just as we finished and they tried to help push the car out of the parking space and onto the road.

After a few minutes of little success despite a lot of back-breaking effort on their part, one of the guys saw that I had a flat tire in the back. It was a brand new snow tire, and that is why the car wasn't moving.

My friend and neighbor sheepishly said, "Oops, I think I came too close to the tire when I was shoveling and I hit it with the point of the shovel."

In 25 years I have never let him forget that and we still laugh about it today. His nickname became "Mr. Shovel."

-- Bob, New Bedford

The year 1978 was wonderfully magical. I was in my senior year at New Bedford High School. I had my car and my best girl, Evelyn (who later became my wife). I was tri-captain of the one of the state's better high school hoop teams, for a time ranked No. 2 in the state behind Patrick Ewing's high school team out of Cambridge.

And then two days in February altered my life and the lives of countless others like no other February has since.

Just days prior to the blizzard's arrival, our Whaler squad was to do battle in Fall River against our arch-rivals from Durfee High, who were sporting a rather lengthy home winning streak -- something like 50-plus games. In the visitors' locker room before that game, a photographer from one of the Boston daily papers, the Globe I believe, had gathered our starting five to take a group shot that was to appear in the paper's Feb. 9 morning edition.

You see, at that point in time we were ranked No. 2 in the state and "they" were wondering who were these guys burning up the South Coast league. This was to be our introduction to the rest of the state's basketball fans. After finishing the photo shoot, we went out and broke Durfee's streak in one of the best games I ever had the privilege to be a part of.

That Friday night after the game, most of our team met up with half the school at the United Front Homes Rec Center and we partied at the dance like we had never partied before. It was one of those nights that a high school kid dreams about. And with the prospect of our Whaler team, the Durfee killers, about to be introduced to the greater Boston area and beyond, the night took on a magical air. It was GREAT.

And then it happened. (Just as) our photo spread was to hit the news stands, the snows came and would not stop, so much so that a snow state of emergency was enacted and over 90 percent of that day's Boston Globe newspapers never got delivered. No parents, no fans, no college coaches or scouts would get to meet me, Mike Sherrin, Tony DePina, Derwin Watkins or Gus Hodge.

To compound matters, as a result of all that snow, Tony and I injured ourselves. I hurt my leg trying to extricate my car from a snow bank so I could get to practice. Tony hurt his back trying to shovel his walk so his family could get out of the house. And Mike caught the flu. As a result of our misfortune, the next week we lost the first game of the first round of the Mass. State basketball tournament. A match-up versus Ewing's team would never be. And we became a footnote in New Bedford basketball history.

It took a very long time to get over the hurt and disappointment. I ended up in New York and Tony in Boston. Mike and Derwin had the right idea -- they went to Florida and Alabama, respectively.

Fate is funny that way. If only it had snowed a week earlier or week later, or better yet not at all. Who knows what turns our basketball lives could have taken. But the reality is that I am a happily married middle-aged New Jersey father of two.

My sons both play ball and the best lessons I have for them is to always bundle up after playing and to always, ALWAYS bend your knees not your back when you shovel snow or push a car.

P.S. To the 1978 New Bedford High Whalers thanks for memories. I can not think of a better group of guys I would want to go into battle with. God Bless.

-- Brian K. Houser, tri-captain of 1978 NBHS basketball team

I was a freshman at SMU (now UMass Dartmouth) when the blizzard hit. Of course, none of us expected the magnitude of the storm that it turned out to be, but since I lived about 45 minutes away, I figured I would skip out of class early and head home before it got too bad. I think there were only a few inches of snow on the roads at the time, but my 45-minute commute took me two hours, and it wasn't even that bad yet.

Once home with my parents in Mansfield, we hunkered down and watched the amazing details unfold on television and outside our window. I had never seen anything like it in my life before, and perhaps never will again. When we awoke the next morning, our cars were completely covered, as we had received 4 feet of snow. The power was out and we spent nearly a week taking turns being huddled around a small fire in the fireplace, and going outside to shovel.

Our road was impassable for a full week, only a small path wide enough for snowmobiles existed. Thank God no houses caught fire, as the engines could never have got there. Neighbors who had never met before suddenly had no place to go, nothing to do (besides shoveling), and people actually took time to talk, and share. Mentally, it was a very restful and relaxing time.

The thing I remember most, however, is that I had been eating lunch at school and studying with a friend I had just met, named Paula. She had only been a casual friend until that point, but over that week, we both realized that we had really missed each other. Soon we started dating, and Paula now has been my wife for 23 years of I must say, wedded bliss, all courtesy of the Blizzard of '78.

-- Steve Morgan, New Bedford

I was the manager of the New Bedford office of Brink's Armored Service at the time of the blizzard.

I started getting calls from my employees who were out on their routes around noon. I could hardly believe the stories that they were telling about the driving conditions. With the exception of the truck in New Bedford, I ordered all trucks back in around 1 p.m. All trucks made it back safely.

I left the office, which was on Cedar Street, around 5:30 p.m. and barely made it home. If I had to stop my car anywhere I would not have made it. I only lived a rather short distance away on Kempton Steet, but it seemed like a long drive that night. I aimed my car into the driveway, it skidded to a stop and stayed there for over a week.

The following morning the wind had died down some, so I walked to the office to reset the alarms. I weighed around 200 pounds but I still was walking on top of the snow, which the wind had packed onto the street like pavement. It was a weird feeling as I towered over the parked cars.

Brink's was off the road completely for a few days, but we were allowed to resume operation as soon as possible as we were deemed a necessary supplier. Many businesses had no alarms and wanted to off load their cash. The first thing that we did was the delivery of cash that was flown into the airport.

-- Bill Shanks, New Bedford

On the morning of the Blizzard of '78 I was working at Morse Cutting Tools in New Bedford as an electrician. I remember watching the weather report that morning and recall that snow was predicted but only a few inches. At the plant, news of the impending storm was of no concern to most. But later in the morning, snow was falling and from the looks of things, it seemed to me that this snowfall was becoming a definite reason for people to be concerned. I began to advise people to leave early. Some agreed, others did not, still believing that it would be a light snowfall. Not long after, most people had changed their minds.

The plant parking lot on the West Side (Sixth St.) began to fill up with employees now determined to get out. It looked like a desperate situation. Autos were not moving quickly or as easily out of the lot. I myself was not concerned about getting home because home was across the street. Others were not as lucky. I stayed and helped to push many cars until they got out onto Bedford Street and headed west to County.

By this time the snow was in full effect and becoming deep very quickly. During the attempts to reach County and Bedford by many, the traffic began to come to a standstill. This was a blizzard; one similar to many we grew up with and personally learned to enjoy. As I ran toward the now invisible County Street, many faces of some of my co-workers could be seen sitting behind their steering wheels in what appeared to be a state of panic.

Upon my arrival at the intersection I looked first south and then north, and in both directions visibility was down to about 100 feet in blinding and blowing snow. Nothing was moving except for an occasional Jeep or four-wheel-drive vehicle. These vehicles weren't stopping for anyone. I began to do whatever was necessary to help others get under way, knowing full well that they would not get far without help. As I looked south towards Allen Street it was obvious that it too was invisible. I could hear the sounds of people yelling and spinning tires of vehicles stuck in the snow.

The condition of that intersection was left to my imagination. Adults and children of the neighborhood began to come out of their homes to assist as many drivers as possible. I remember an elderly woman nearly in tears in a Volkswagen Beetle. It must have been her first time trapped by snow. As others and myself attempted to help her, one of those "SUV Wanna-bees" came plowing through, almost running over the bug with her inside -- another happy four-wheel drive customer without a care in the world.

For the next 3½ hours, dripping wet and cold, I continued with what appeared to be an endless line of desperate drivers trying to get home. Many vehicles were abandoned. Finally, exhausted, I walked the 75 or so yards to my warm apartment where my wife greeted me with dry clothes, hot soup and tea. Secretly, after five hours of helping others, I had this warm glow about me, and the words of a song got caught up in my head, "Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow".

The storm was a great excuse to stop everything -- to stop worrying about going to work, running errands or for showing up at scheduled events or meetings. It was a perfect time to relax and hang at home.

This storm brought out the best in people and in some cases the worst. While many helped, others were concerned only about themselves. During the next several days, many in my neighborhood came out to shovel together the streets and side walks, only to have their work covered over by the city plows. My own vehicle was trapped for three weeks because of a 15-foot pile of snow in front of it, put there by city crews, and my neighbors, too elderly to move their own, parked behind me.

I'll always remember the Blizzard of 1978 and that song, "Let it Snow."

-- Kenneth J. Ramos, New Bedford

When we were 11 years old growing up in New Bedford, there was no moment in the spectrum of emotions equal to the joy felt when the beautiful, wailing sound of the emergency siren fired off throughout the city on, say, a Wednesday, January morning. Down the South End the sound went, across Brock Avenue, right onto the front doorstep of my home at 214 Bellevue St.

After the 6 a.m. siren, it was a quick jump down from the bunk bed and a sprint to the window. Pull the curtain? Siren plus snow equals no school today! It was everyone's favorite equation.

I am sitting in my classroom in California as I write this, remembering those days. It's about 60 degrees outside on Jan. 24 in Sacramento. I just turned the air conditioner on in the computer lab. The temperature might drop to 40 degrees later this week. Brrrrrrr -- so cold for Californians.

Trying to explain the pure delight felt when that siren sounded to someone who lives in California is impossible. I tried anyway, relieving memories of the Blizzard of '78 with my students today.

In recalling for me what was 11 days, I would swear to you that I was indeed 11 years old, when in fact, I was a 15-year-old freshman at Greater New Bedford Regional Vocational Technical High School.

No doubt the times and inches of snowfall will all be part of this special section, so I won't worry that my facts might be a bit skewed by 25 years.

The days are a bit of a blur. I know that beautiful siren sounded four days in row. I remember playing street hockey in the snow, as we always did, but not on Bellevue Street. There was too much snow. We played right on Brock Avenue. There was no traffic to speak of, even on a main thoroughfare, during the early days of the Blizzard.

Did I take a hockey stick in the mouth that cracked my two front teeth during these days? Did my brothers and I create snowbanks and pretend to be Franco Harris scoring from the 1-yard line? Did we line Lot 13 with Maxwell cans to represent first down markers and play the Snow Bowl? Did we play bumper pool in Karl Farnworth's basement? Did I tell my friends, "I don't have a curfew tonight!" only to have my stepmother yell from the house right on cue, "Petaaaaaaa, time to come in!" Did Karl Farnworth and I shovel walks up and down Aquidneck Street and then take the bus to Star Store to buy what I now know to be some pretty ugly shirts for $5 a pop with our earnings? Yes and no.

I'm sure some of those things happened during those days after the blizzard and some not. I guess that's what I remember most about the Blizzard of '78. It was fun to be 11 years old again. I think in some way, even back then, at 15, one becomes aware that the days of having time to find Maxwell House cans to act as first down markers become numbered.

For me, the Blizzard of '78 was more than just a break from school. It was a break from growing up, a week where it was OK to be silly and awkward again without worrying about who would say what about whom.

When I think about that siren bellowing through New Bedford, especially during those days of the Blizzard of '78, I remember being 11 years old.

-- Pete LeBlanc, Antelope, Calif., formerly of New Bedford

The snow began falling just as predicted and the mad rush for groceries was winding down at Food Mart. Our supply of bread, milk and other staples was almost depleted. Most of the employees had been sent home early to join the masses trying to navigate through the blizzard.

Then there were only three of us left to close down the store and wait for an overdue tractor trailer loaded with groceries to arrive from Springfield, Mass. Our order from our main office was to wait.

In the canyon created by two large mill complexes surrounding our store, the winds swirled and blew the snow into drifts, leaving a large clear area right down the middle of our parking lot; my Ford Pinto was in the clear. We waited.

Finally around 8 p.m., the call we were waiting for came in: The delivery had been canceled and the truck had returned to the warehouse safely. We could finally go home. The snow and wind had slowed so we ventured out onto Rockdale Avenue and found the plows had done a good job clearing the street. We shoveled the snow that the plows had piled up, hopped into my trusty Pinto and headed for Rivet Street. I deposited my comrades at their doorstep and headed for home in Dartmouth, never encountering another vehicle along the way. It was the most pleasant drive home I ever had!!

-- Michael J. Sliwa, Longwood, Fla, formerly of Dartmouth

On Thursday, Feb. 2, I set out fom London , England to visit two girlfriends in the USA. I had never traveled abroad alone before. I arrived safely in Washington D.C. via New York and a Greyhound bus.

On Monday, the snow arrived, but I persevered with my plan to visit all the museums and galleries.I had them almost to myself.

But my plan to go to North Dartmouth by Greyhound was not to be. There were no buses because roads were closed, as was Logan Airport. One evening my friend in Dartmouth rang to say that Logan was opening next day and the highway would be open to public transport only. I was to get a plane, a limo to the bus station and the New Bedford bus.

I got a flight on the first plane to Boston for several days. The airport was very crowded and I had never seen piles of snow like it. It was early evening and dark. I could not find a limo and decided to get a cab to the bus station. Cab drivers were in the terminal building looking for fares. One found me and I asked to go to South Street station. He asked me where I was really going and put me in his cab and told me to wait.

Ten minutes later he returned with two couples going to New Bedford. They had been to Puerto Rico for a winter sunshine holiday and been stuck in Detroit for four days waiting to get back. They piled into this ancient car with all their luggage -- one in the front with me and the driver. Somehow he drove for more than two hours down the highway. One lane only was cleared and was bordered by mountains of snow and patrolled by the odd Army truck. I had no idea where I was or what it would cost me or where I would end up.

But they dropped me at the bus stop in North Dartmouth ,charged me $12 and I phoned my friend. She arrived in their truck to take me home to Gidley Farm on Tucker Road. There we spent the week keeping warm and going for amazing walks in snow shoes through woods, fields and over what I now know is a pond!

I have returned to North Dartmouth at least once a year ever since, mostly in winter, and have never again known anything like it. The whole experience conquered forever my fears of travelling alone.

-- Karen Dunnell, United Kingdom

I will never forget the Blizzard of 78. My house in New Bedford had burned down. I can still remember the firemen fighting the fire and having ice hanging from their beards. I give thanks to the Red Cross who found us shelter in the Holiday Inn, which is now the Whaler Inn. We were only to stay for a couple of days (but) then the blizzard hit us and we were there for a week.

The Red Cross and Holiday Inn paid for the room and the food for a week. My hat is off to them.

-- Richard F. Bardsley New Bedford

I remember the 78 storm well because I was so wrong about it. I was having breakfast with my friend, Tom Quinn of Dartmouth, and we stopped at the Narrows in Wareham before going down to Wellfleet.

Around 9:30 a.m., it started to snow and Tom said "This don't look so good. Maybe we ought to go home."

I said, "Nah, I bet it don't add up to much."

By the time we finished breakfast I knew I was wrong and we headed home and none too soon. Tom said I make a lousy weatherman.

-- Frank Medeiros, Acushnet.

Oh, I remember it well! I was a young nurse, well, 25 years younger, and working the 3-11 shift at St. Luke's Hospital. I worked on Hathaway 1st, all private rooms, 18 patients in all. The weather report was foreboding and I had a dear friend who owned a Caddy of huge proportion, a '68, all steel. She took it to her garage and had chains put on it and lent it to me.

I left my three children and firefighter husband and off I went around 2 p.m., not to return for at least 24 hours. I took extra cigarettes, undies and a can of soup, knowing I could get a toothbrush at the hospital.

The weather turned fierce and I began to suspect the worse, we wouldn't be leaving that night. By 11 p.m., no one was able to get in to work, so here we were. The entrance to the hospital was filling with people who had tried to walk home from their places of employment, only to find they could not walk any further and ended up sleeping on the floor near the information desk.

My night was spent with my nurse's aide, Marion Poirier, and a private duty nurse named Mary McCusker. We had a small radio so could listen to the local chattering. The gent had people bringing him in food, if they were close. My chums and I had a great time for I entertained them all night. We became hungry so I called Open Line and pretended I was a patient and felt sorry for the nurses as they were hungry and maybe someone could bring them food. Oh, we laughed, of course, no food arrived.

That morning, no help arrived either. A nurse's aide showed up who lived only doors away, so Marion went to the White Home to sleep and came back at 3. Mary went also, but poor Dee (me) stayed on. By now I had been awake for 24 hours and worked for 16. I was beginning to lose my sense of humor, my eyes looked like the flag -- red, white and blue!

The gent across from the nurses station called his wife and complained that he hadn't slept a wink. Well, I barreled into the room and told her he snored all night. The look of shock on his face when he realized I was still there!

I continued to work until 4 p.m. when the assistant director of nursing showed up on the floor, took one look at me and said "Oh, Dee, we forgot about you!"

I took my body out to the Caddy, cleaned it off and started the baby up. I careened out of that parking lot and headed for Rockdale Avenue , slowly, never stopping, going around stranded cars and heading for the cove. I made it to the hurricane gates on West Rodney French and pulled into a bank of snow. When I got home there was a strange man sleeping upstairs who had walked to the South End police station to be given our address as all fire personnel had opened their homes to any one stranded.

Months later we received a lovely basket of fruit from him. The next day they didn't have me go to work so we joined all the neighbors in celebrating. A grand time was had by all.

-- Doreen "Dee" Lariviere, New Bedford

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I was born in 1925 and have seen a lot of snowstorms. I think 1978 was the greatest blizzard in my life.

At that time I worked for a seafood company in Wickford R.I. The company supplied me with a Dodge van for transportation. On that snowy day I left work to go to my Westport home with snow accumulation of about four inches.

That Dodge van had proved itself in snow many times before so I had no concern about travel. That van zipped into I-95 headed for Providence. The snow was soon eight inches deep and we (the van and me) were dodging around many stuck vehicles.

I came to a halt in traffic near Green Airport. I sat without moving for about a half-hour and then made another U-turn to go find food.

I found nourishment and good conversation in a Sunnybrook Farms store along with many people. The clerk said she would remain open all night so that we could all remain. I still wanted to go home so, after calling Alice, I and a passenger who said he knew the back roads to Providence, got the van going north and mushed along for about two blocks.

We were going at a good clip around a corner when that van buried itself up to the windshield and refused to move. My passenger left on foot and I loaded all my electronic equipment into a old pair of pants and returned to Sunny brook Farms.

About midnight, a policeman came and said he had a big payloader and city bus to take us all to a church. I had worked on a lot of construction equipment and I had never saw such a huge payloader. The operator cleared the snow in front and then went in back and picked the bus up and moved it into the clear area.

The church in Warwick soon appeared and we joined a large group of more than 125 people in the church hall. For three days, people from all walks of life tried to be comfortable with a few chairs and mostly a hardwood floor. Each morning, two state troopers arrived with a snowmobile pulling a sled loaded with food.

We had breakfast and either American chop suey or spaghetti for lunch and supper. The church women did all the cooking while we helped where we could. A neighbor could have his big screen television to help us pass the time. Everyone got along fine except for one jewel bedecked woman who was angry for the three days. She kept hounding her chauffeur to go get her limousine, which was somewhere on I-95. No one had any sympathy for her.

The third day, the police said the route through Providence would probably be closed for a week, but Newport was open. I called the plant and a driver came with one of our big trucks and we went to the van. We found a window smashed and my machinist's tool cabinet gone.

But now all I wanted was home and Alice. The trip was a rough one. Around Newport, the dozers had not scraped to the pavement and that van did a lot of scraping and banging to get me home, but there was no other traffic. I think it must have another two days before the grumpy lady saw her limo.

I have no desire to go through those three days again, but I am glad I had the experience. To have so many people smile and tell jokes while cramped in that church hall with body odor getting stronger each day told me that this country has a lot of nice people in it.

-- Carlton "Cukie" Macomber, Westport

My memory of this huge blizzard seems funny now as I look back at it, but it was certainly most memorable at the time it occurred.

My husband, Gordon C. Cahoon, and I had been married less than one year. At that time, he was a senior EMT for the City of New Bedford and I worked at St. Luke's Hospital as a switchboard operator. His shift the night of the blizzard and the following was from 6 p.m. to 8 a.m. and mine was from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. The South End ambulance was housed at Kempton and Reed streets at that time. We lived at 619 Maxfield St. and my husband said that he would walk to work being such a short distance and I decided that I would walk, also.

We left our home at 5 o'clock and it was dark, cold and snowing to beat the band. As we proceeded east on Summit Street it was most difficult to walk as the snow was already very high under foot. As we approached the corner of Mill Street, the New Bedford Police paddy wagon was also approaching the intersection. My husband, being the type of individual that he was, proceeded to flag the wagon down, asked the driver if anyone was in the rear. Of course it was empty, and he asked the driver to please take me to St. Luke's Hospital and then proceeded to open the back door and pushed me inside before I had a chance to say, boo, yes or no.

Needless to say, I was very early for work and all was fine for the night. I was also escorted home the next morning via police car, but at least it was not the paddy wagon.

-- Nancy M. Cahoon

New Bedford

At 8 a.m. on Feb. 6, three of us -- two women and an 11-year-old -- ended a visit with family in Fair Haven, Vt.., and began our journey home. Bad decision.

My aunt who had been listening to the radio since 6 a.m., urged us to get an early start. Boston was reporting that the snow was expected to start late in the afternoon. There was ample time to reach New Bedford ahead of the storm.

By lunch time, we were near Boston. We stopped to eat and then decided to go through the city. Good decision. We avoided the mess that would befall Route 128.

As we were leaving Boston, the snow was falling -- fine, swirling flakes that didn't look like much of anything. We passed a Howard Johnson motel, our last opportunity for overnight lodging. We felt confident and continued on. Bad decision.

A short distance later, the falling snow looked more serious. We had second thoughts about our decision to continue. As we turned onto Route 24, the scene had changed significantly. Not only was the snow falling harder, there was more accumulation. The travel at this point was, of necessity, slow. We stopped for gas and some hot coffee, to go of course. There would be no lingering. The snow was falling hard; visibility was diminished. The windshield wipers were not adequate for the job, so we had to assist them with a snow brush. First the driver and then the passenger would reach out the window to clear the snow from the windshield; the 11-year-old slept.

When we reached Route 140, we experienced whiteout conditions. It was not possible to see the sides of the road. As we slowly followed the car ahead of us, the silence was deafening and we each wondered if he went into a ditch would we follow him there? As luck would have it, that vehicle exited 140 before we reached New Bedford. How could he? Didn't he know how important he was to our survival? Now ours was the lead car as we continued to creep down 140. Suddenly a most startling sight appeared ahead; causing the driver to cry out in horror, and then in relief at the recognition that right up ahead were traffic lights for Route 6! We exited left and traveled to Rockdale Avenue. There we found that the only way around several abandoned vehicles was to go onto the sidewalk a bit, at least now we could see and were almost home.

We cautiously made our way through the city until we reached Rockland Street and could go no more; a car was stuck in the middle of the street. We helped him to dig out and then he assisted us and finally we were home; 12 hours after we started on what should have been a five-hour trip.

-- Jane Brightman, New Bedford

My son, Bruce, and I worked for Helfand Dairy. I was the driver of the milk truck. My milk route covered Cape Cod stores and restaurants as far as West Dennis.

Realizing the storm was getting very bad, I decided to head back. When we approached the mid-Cape highway, I saw that the highway was closed. I was told I had to use route 6A along the coast. I told my son to fasten his seat belt because we were going to drive all the way to the dairy in South Dartmouth without stopping. He laughed and thought I was joking, but I never stopped, because I knew as soon as we stopped we would be stuck for good.

We pulled into the dairy's parking lot. I had to dig out my '72 Cadillac and I drove my son home to the North End and then drove to my home in Acushnet on South Main. I don't know how I did it, it took over three hours, most of the roads were impassable. I could not pull into my driveway so I left my car at the gas station across the street with the owners permission. I told the gas station owner I would get my car the next day. To my surprise, when I went to get my car the next day, I found it had been stolen at the height of the storm. The car was found Feb. 7 in a snow bank on Sawyer Street.

-- Ralph Bessette, Wareham

Any person of Chinese descent will never forget this storm.

It was Chinese New Year's starting Monday, Feb. 6. The Charlie Wong family was snowed in at the Cathay Temple for several days.

What a great time and celebration we had to usher in the year of the horse, 4676.

-- Suzie Wong, Fairhaven

I was only a private in the National Guard and had not even received all of my winter clothing.

I received a call from my first sergeant who only lived a mile away. He told me that we had been activated by the governor, and were to report to the Armory in New Bedford.

As the snow was already quite deep, I had no means to get there. He told me to get to his house and I could ride with him. The only clothes I had was one set of Army fatigues, woolen long johns, and an old Army trench coat that I wore over my issued Army field jacket. I packed a duffel bag with some civilian clothes and I walked a mile to his home. There we were picked up and taken to the Armory.

In the early afternoon, we left to go to the Bourne Armory. From there we were taken to Raynham, and then divided up as the calls came in for needed assistance. Several of us were driving to the town of Hull.

As we approached the causeway that gets you into the town, the waves were crashing over the road. We crossed the roadway and went to Hull police station. Later we learned that the causeway had been washed out.

We were instructed to patrol the town looking for looters, stranded people who may be in their cars or homes, and older people who needed assistance.

We would use our night sticks to scratch the snow off the cars to look inside. We walked into homes that had been damaged as the doors were open. At some homes, we walked inside and could look straight to the back of the home and see the ocean.

It was as if we were in ghost town, as we did not see one person the whole night.

We responded to a house fire, but little could be done as the fireman could not get to the fire hydrants, as most were covered with snow and ice.

In early morning, after having been on duty the whole night, we were taken to the police station where we slept in the cells.

Later we were dropped off at a convenience store. Upon arriving, we noticed a long line of people in front of the store. The front door had been smashed open and the store was full of people looting groceries.

Upon our approach, most fled the scene, and we ordered the ones inside to drop the articles and leave the store. There were only three of us we were not authorized to carry firearms.

We guarded the store all day and I was relieved in the late afternoon. By this time the storm had ended and I was able to leave the island.

I was taken to Scituate Beach and given one of the dumbest military orders I had ever heard in my 24 years of service. I was with three other soldiers and we were ordered to patrol the beach and not allow any of the residents to take any of the shellfish from the beach. We asked, respectfully of course, why would we want to do this? We were told that the fish could be contaminated.

We tried to carry out these orders but it was almost impossible to enforce. The residents had large trash bags and barrels picking up the seafood.

We told them what our orders were, to which they had a good laugh and informed us that this seafood was frozen and the storm surge had washed it on the beach deep inside the harbor. And one of them politely pointed out the fact that there was only three of us and 100 of them.

We responded that they had made a good point. After walking this beach for several hours, one of the ladies who had been down on the beach gathering seafood and talking to us, invited us into her home for some of the best seafood chowder that I had ever eaten.

-- Donald R. Gaudette, New Bedford

I had the privilege of serving the people of New Bedford as a member of the New Bedford City Council. I represented the people of Ward 2 in the city's North End.

The snow came down very hard and it accumulated very fast. The snow plows could not keep up with the falling snow. They put their efforts into keeping a few main roads open for emergency vehicles. All efforts to reach people on the side streets were made on foot.

I walked through snow drifts of over four feet to reach Ashley Boulevard. This was one of the few driveable streets in the North End. I hitched a ride with a police cruiser to the Civil Defense building on Country Street.

From there I got a ride to the city landfill on Shawmut Avenue. The garbage trucks that were normally used to plow were not equipped to handle the deep snow. The city was using backhoes from the department of Public Works, Cemetery Department and the Water Department for snow removal.

I was able to commandeer a front-end loader, a large piece of earth-moving machinery. The operator of the loader was very gracious to my request, so off we drove to clear the streets of Ward 2. We stayed out most of the night and the next day opening up the side streets.

The city workers deserve a lot of credit for the great job of snow removal. They really were not equipped to manage a storm like the Blizzard of '78, but they did what they had to do, with whatever they had, to get the job done.

-- Paul Barton, New Bedford

If you lived in this area in 1978, how could you forget the Blizzard of '78!

I was 12½ years old and remember it well. We lived in New Bedford and I was attending St. James-St. John School.

My most vivid memories from that time are:

# Staying home from school for at least a week!

# Remembering that my Dad arrived home very late that night because he walked home from his business, which was about four miles away (he actually almost DIDN'T make it home because he almost died that night)!

# Walking about 3 miles to the store with my parents to buy the essentials and remembering that I carried a gallon of milk and when I arrived home my fingers were so swollen from the cold!!

-- Rosemary Neto Hazzard

I had my own dance with disaster while driving my UPS truck down Route 24 during the Blizzard of '78.

The deafening wind whipped across the Watappa Pond and began twisting the body of my truck, eventually winning its battle and popping open the door to the cab, which began filling with snow almost immediately. Visibility was low, lines were down, roads were nearly impassable and I was now faced with the arduous task of trying to maintain the vehicle on the road and at the same time to close and secure the door so that I could make it back to the Dartmouth Garage.

I arrived at the barn, white-knuckled and nearly blinded by the snow, an hour and forty-five minutes later (this trip normally would take 20 minutes), only to be faced with the daunting task of driving my personal vehicle home to Acushnet in the darkness of the storm. I saw only one other vehicle during this ride and that was a fellow UPS driver on his way home.

As I sit now and reflect upon this storm, what I remember most is how the community came together and helped one another.

At the time of the blizzard, I was an employee at Brown University. On Feb. 6, 1978, I was allowed to leave for home at 1p.m.

I managed to come down College Hill in Providence and ended up sitting in my car until 7 that evening. After all that time, my windshield wipers quit (motor burned out), and I abandoned my car. I fought my way back up the hill to the University's Security Office. They escorted me to a vacant dorm, where I bedded down with about 25 other strangers. There's nothing unusual about that, since many, many persons were also stranded as well. But the following morning, I was determined to walk home -- about 5 miles away.

I began plodding in snow up to my hips, through the city of Providence at 7 a.m.

I didn't see anyone, but I passed cars buried in snow up to their windows. The only sounds I heard were those of birds.

After managing to get across the city, I stopped on an overpass and looked down on Route 95. Cars, buses, and trucks were just squatting in their tracks, and the lines of crippled vehicles stretched back as far as I could see. I also saw some people sleeping in their cars.

The following is what strikes me as one of the funniest moments in my life.I started walking up Broadway (a huge main street). It was tough going -- since I am only 5'4" -- and I kept falling down just trying to negotiate huge drifts of snow. After some time had passed, I heard someone calling out: "Girlie, girlie, can you help me?" I looked around and spotted a very elderly woman hanging out of a second-story tenement window.

"Do you mean me?" I yelled back.

"Yes!" she replied. "Here's a dollar. Run down to the corner store and get me some bread. I'm out!" I watched George Washington float down gently through the air and land on a snow drift outside her front door.

"I'm sorry," I replied, "but I can't be of any help to you since the little store is closed, and I can hardly walk -- the snow is so high! I'll put your money on your porch steps. Maybe later, when the plows come through and the store opens, someone else can be of assistance to you."

"OK, OK," she started yelling, "you kids today are just wimpy . If I were a bit younger, I'd have no problem running out to the store in a little snow. You young people are just wimps!" With that she slammed the window down, and I continued waddling my way home.

It took me seven hours that day to arrive at home. All during those hours that I trudged through impossible drifts of snow, I would burst out laughing, thinking about that elderly woman. It was the blizzard of the century, I had a husband and three children that I needed to get home to, and she had called me "young" and "wimpy"!

-- Shirley Rodrigues, Marion

I was living in New Bedford on Austin Street, two blocks up from Purchase Street. I worked several blocks away at WNBH radio (back then the studios were on County Street) and my job required me to be there.

Austin Street is very steep and barely passable during a normal snowstorm, never mind a blizzard. In fact, it's so steep that when I was a kid the city used to block it off to traffic so everyone in the neighborhood could sled down it. (Talk about days gone by!) Anyway, for me, like so many others, driving to work was out of the question.

Fortunately I was an avid cross-country skier at the time. Though the mountains of New Hampshire were my usual targets for skiing, having my own equipment came in handy during the blizzard. I was able to ski to and from work and actually enjoy leaving my car in the garage at home!

I'm sure if I thought about it long enough, I'd come up with some negative experiences from the Blizzard of '78 (shoveling comes to mind immediately.) But on the several occasions that I've had to talk with friends and acquaintances about that storm, the salient memory that I share is the one of getting to work by cross country skiing down County Street through two feet of snow!

-- Mike Durand, Freetown

I was living in New Bedford and working in Fall River for a dentist on that day. At 3 pm, the doctor decided to close the office and let us go home. I normally traveled down Pine Street towards Broadway and onto Route 195. On this day, because we closed early, I was bringing another girl home who lived in Fall River, so my travel plans were altered. Instead of turning left to go toward Route 195, I turned right towards President Avenue We looked up at the highway as we drove down Davol Street and saw all the cars backed up. We thought that it was just alot of traffic, not realizing they were stuck in all that snow.

I was driving a Toyota Corolla and when we finally got to President Avenue we had problems getting up the hill. The wheels were spinning. So we started rocking back in forth in jerky motions as if to try to push the car and believe it or not we got all the way up to the top of the hill doing just that.

Once at the top we started moving pretty well, but the traffic going the opposite direction was at a standstill. Somewhere around the Truesdale Clinic, an ambulance was passing all the cars in his lane and coming up our lane, so I tried to make as much room as possible to let him by. It didn't work. We got stuck in the snow.

We didn't know what to do so we sat there for a minute or two when suddenly two men got out of the ambulance and got behind our car and pushed us and we were on our way. I was determined to keep going because I was lucky those guys got me out and I might not be as lucky again. The girl who was with me lived on President Avenue, so we got close to her house I slowed down and she jumped out and I kept right on going straight to Route 24 where once again I was lucky to get behind a plow.

From there I got on Route 195 and up the road got behind another plow and remained that way all the way to Route 140. As I got to my exit, I could see cars stuck. Immediately, I thought to myself, "don't go that way or you will be stuck there, too." So I thought fast and because it is a "clover leaf" I went to the next Routd 140 exit and around the cloverleaf and ended up right where I wanted to be headed.

I was able to drive all the rest of the way without incident until I got to my house on Dartmouth Street. I was unable to turn into the driveway because the snow was so high all I could do was turn the wheel and land in the snow bank. I got in the house and everyone was hysterical wondering if I had been alright. I had left Fall River at 3 in the afternoon and arrived at home at 7. Looking back, I realize how lucky I was to get home that day.

-- Karen Lizotte Baron, Acushnet

Do you remember the pictures of Route 128 closed down through Canton? The cars and trucks spread across the highway, unable to move?

I was living and working as maintenance person in a housing development not too far away from that area during the Blizzard of '78. It just happens to be situated on the highest point in the City of Boston.

It was a large, garden-style development with townhouses, parking lots, and a number of separate streets all tied into the one main street that circle the homes. We started plowing early to keep the streets open, but as the snow built up any snow we moved closed in behind us as we drove by. We quickly ran out of places to push the snow as open corners became filled with mounds of snow and we couldn't push it back any more.

I had brought my wife to her mother's house much earlier because we kept loosing and regaining our power, and it was a good thing. After working for almost 36 hours straight, the area lost all power, and we were plunged into darkness, and worse. No heat, no stoves, nothing to keep the pipes from freezing. I slept in a bed that night with five blankets covering me, my Irish Setter under the blankets with me, covered with a hat and gloves as well as fully dressed. When I awoke in the morning the wind had drifted the snow so that the front door to my apartment was completely covered. As crazy as it sounds, the same wind had completely removed all the snow from the back door. You could see grass and sidewalks completely devoid of snow.

We had cars buried under 5 feet of snow. There was no way to move any vehicles and we had to have a contractor bring in a large bulldozer to open up the streets.

The best memory of that blizzard was taking a small tracked sidewalk plow down an untouched road in a wooded section of an old MDC Parkway, stopping to take pictures of trees covered in what will always be remembered as a winter wonderland.

-- David Babcock, New Bedford

When the Blizzard of '78 struck, my seven year old daughter, Beth, and I were home (Calvin Street, Fall River), surrounded with the warmth of a newly inspected furnace, the backup of a working fireplace, a well-stocked pantry and refrigerator. However, it wasn't until five hours into the storm that we fully relaxed, with the arrival of Beth's daddy and my husband, Jim.

Jim had escaped the sad fate of many of his commuting colleagues, (being stranded miles from home for the duration), by traveling a combination of back roads, like 1 and 1A, and some of the highways, like 195 and 24, at their ordinarily less-traveled spots. It took about four hours for him to travel the 40 miles or so from Franklin to Fall River, but there he was, at 6:30 p.m., his economy sized Toyota encrusted with snow, except for two little peep holes on the windshield. Beth and I jumped for joy, literally, when we glimpsed his familiar vehicle, and with that, his faithful, little "snow-beast" unceremoniously stalled about 15 feet from our driveway. After a few futile attempts to restart it, the little Toyota was allowed to spend the night in the middle of Calvin Street. It didn't look like anyone was going to care for the time being or be searching out those who broke the parking ban.

At that point, all loved ones were accounted for as being safely at home, from the youngest, who had been marooned on a school bus, to the eldest who had to be rescued from his auto, stalled and abandoned somewhere along the route of what was normally a five-minute drive down North Main Street.

We three settled in for what turned out to be one of the most memorable vacations our little family enjoyed. Indoors, we looked at all our photo albums and slides, from 1970 to the present, stayed up late every night, baked at least a dozen bundt cakes and dozens more chocolate chip cookies. Gallons of popcorn were popped, with melted butter, of course.We danced to old records and 8-track tapes, painted winter murals, melted messages into our icy windows with our warm finger tips, formed clay creatures and took naps at odd times. We sang our favorite songs and listened to Jim's wonderful voice and piano playing.

Outdoors, we built a snow village peopled by everyone we knew. The birds were fed on purpose, and the squirels, also, but not on purpose. (However cute, we knew they were rodents!). Beth still tried to use her jungle gym, but the poles and posts were slippery when she wore mittens, and her little hands, uncovered, stuck to the metal. She really learned to operated her "big-kid" sled and got to try it out for hours on the hill directly in front of our house, since there was no traffic for a week or more, except for an occasional plow.

The most humorous event of the blizzard occured on the third day following the storm. At that time our neighbors to our west were a newly married couple. The gentleman was a minister serving on an interim basis at a local church.

Since we were the parents of a lively 7-year-old who loved the outdoors ordinarily, this special event of a blizzard required us to be outdoors with her more than usual for a couple hours or more daily. On the third day after the storm, we were working in the side yard on our snow village when the newlyweds emerged from their home for the first time since the storm had struck. As Beth continued working, we two couples began to chat and catch up on the storm events. Beth eventually joined us, listening to the adult conversation. When the minister's wife asked her, "And what have you been doing since the blizzard?" our daughter replied, "I've been outside, playing and inside playing. You must be doing a lot of playing inside, 'cause you haven't been outside." I think the new bride actually blushed, but the remaining three adults enjoyed some winks and smiles.

Yes, the Blizzard of '78 was one of the most memorable storms for the SouthCoast communities. For us, it was one of those special, happy times in our family when we were brought even closer together than we were until that time. It is especially important today when our daughter lives 1,200 miles away from her SouthCoast home, where water sports and Disney have replaced the enduring enjoyment of a foot or two of snow!

-- Gloria Proulx-Morrissette

I was working on a Tugboat out of New Haven, Conn. On the morning of the storm we were docked in Bridgeport waiting for our relief crew to arrive.

By the time the relief crew boarded, the storm had intensified and the snow was about two feet deep. I was determined to get home because i knew my family needed me. I managed to get on Route 95 and found the traffic very light, which was understandable. I guess most people wisely stayed home.

After traveling appoximately 20-30 miles I was stopped by the National Guard and was told to leave my car on the highway. It is my guess that there were numerous accidents further north and coupled cars couldn't go any further. The National Guard took me, along with many others, to shelters. I was brought to the local Boys Club, where they fed and sheltered us for the evening.

It was really great how people came together to help each other out during that very difficult period. I tried to call my family that night, but the lines were down. The following day I was taken to my car and I was able to go just 30-40 more miles however I found a motel just outside of New London.

The snow drift was so high I didn't know if I was in the back or front of the motel. Luckily, the owner was outside and he guided me to front and I got a room for the night. Next morning I went out to get my car and couldn't find it. During the night many more inches of snow fell and covered the cars. After determining approximately where the cars were, the owner and some of the rest of us shoveled the cars free. I finally got back on Route 95 and when I got around Warwick, R.I., I was told the only way to the New Bedford area would be via Newport, so I headed that way. There were a few obstacles along the way, but I did get through, thank God.

I left Bridgeport, Conn. Monday morning and I didn't get to my home in Fairhaven until Thursday noon. Needless to say, my family breathed a sigh of relief when they saw me coming up the driveway.

-- Roger W. Pires, Fairhaven

It was a typically cold gray February morning in the Mid Hudson Valley of New York, another good day for skiing in the Catskill Mountains. The 26-mile bus trip from the IBM Kingston, N.Y., facility to the IBM facility in Poughkeepsie was uneventful, mixed with prayers and dozing off. Saturday was the day we had been waiting for, planning for, for the past two years. Ordination to the Diaconate in St. Patrick's Cathedral in the City.

Big time for a kid who had left the South End of New Bedford some 26 years previous after graduating from NB High School in '51, working for a year at C. E. Beckman and then enlisting in the Navy. Four years later came home with a bride and, after a pleasant summer in New Bedford, left again to spend the next 37 years developing and manufacturing large scale computers with IBM, too young to realize yet and appreciate the wonderful gift that had been given to me by those marvelous teachers in New Bedford High.

It was going to be a special weekend for me, one that would make up for some lost gatherings. I had been married in Mobile, Ala., when I was discharged from the Navy. None of my family were at the wedding because of the distance. I was one of those kids who felt as though he had never satisfied his father, and this next Saturday was going to be that occasion. My mother had passed away some years earlier, but my dad was still alive and living in the South End and I had a sister and her family living in Rochester. They were all coming to the big day. In drawing lots for family seating in magnificent St. Patrick's Cathedral, it was unbelievable that I had the first two rows on the right hand side of the Cathedral.

Because of the excitement, it was difficult for me to concentrate on manpower planning at work. Strangely, some guys told me they were leaving at noontime because there was a big storm heading our way. As a skier, they could never make storms big enough…so I thought.

At 2 o'clock it started to flurry and by 3 the snow was heavy. By 4:30, when the busses loaded up for the return trip to Kingston there were seven inches of snow on the ground and the traffic was so snarled around the facility that the busses couldn't get in. At 5:30 they announced that we should come inside to the cafeteria where they were serving dinner for all of those stranded by the storm, for free yet! There were over 2,000 employees who were unable to leave because of the storm and the word was passed that you couldn't get out.

As I approached the food line they announced that the bus for Kingston had arrived. What a relief! I dropped my tray, grabbed my coat and scurried to the bus. The bus was loaded in several minutes. There was really no hurry as it took the bus an hour and a half to get out of the parking lot. Two hours later we were a mile and a half up the four lane highway and the traffic was stopped dead with drifts building up around the cars.

One of the men asked the bus driver how long he could heat the bus and the driver answered until tomorrow at noon. Sounded safe, but a number of fellows left the bus to go to a nearby Holiday Inn. They didn't know that they would spend the next two days there. The southbound lane of the highway was plowed but had no traffic. Unfortunately we were heading north and the traffic was solidly baked up because they had to close the Mid Hudson Valley Bridge which crossed the Hudson River.

At 10:15, the engine of the bus roared and then the bus rocked as the driver shifted into gear. The bus lurched as the driver drove over the median separating the north and southbound lanes. Within a minute we were sailing up the southbound lane going in the wrong direction. No one said a word! Now we could then see that the never-ending line of cars in the northbound lane with snow up to their windows. The trip from Poughkeepsie to Hyde Park to Rhinecliff was eerie in that there wasn't another vehicle on the road all the way.

But the real challenge still laid ahead: crossing the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge. This was a two-lane bridge that crossed the Hudson River at a height that made your stomach turn over on a clear day. This was the bridge that had numerous suicide jumps. No one had ever survived. When you read that someone had jumped from the Kingston-Rhinecliff bridge, you knew that they were not mentally stable. This was the bridge we had to cross in a raging blizzard.

At the approach to the bridge the driver shifted into the lowest gear. From this point on the bus never went more than 10 mph and we could feel the howling wind blowing the bus from lane to lane. The side rails of the Mid-Hudson Bridge are four feet high. It was merciful that the raging snowstorm cut off all visibility. There was no one dozing on the bus at this time, but there were a lot of us saying prayers. When we reached land on the other side of the bridge a cheer and applause broke the nervous silence. We had been a part of a very foolish endeavor and survived.

We made the turn off the highway to the road leading to the IBM Kingston facility. My house was a quarter of a mile from this point. Another O'Brien, Joseph from Newport, R.I. (no relative but a friend) shouted for the bus driver to stop and please let him and myself out. We would gladly walk from here. The snow in the main road was two feet deep and when we made it to the connector road the snow was up to our waist. It was 11:50 when I came in. The children were in bed, but my southern bride offered a sigh of relief.

None of the other people on the bus got home that night. The parking lot was snowed in at the IBM facility and some 3,000 men were stranded there through the night telling stories while they nervously worried about their families at home.

By Thursday, all the local roads were cleared and the New York State Throughway was open. Each of the men of the ordination class was informed that the ordination was on for Saturday. We had two busses of people going down to the cathedral from my church.

The New England states were unfortunately in a state of emergency. Gov. Dukakis had shut down all Massachusetts travel. On that Saturday morning none of my family was able to get to St. Patrick's Cathedral. Saturday was a bittersweet day for myself and three other guys who were from Massachusetts.

At this time, the four of us from Massachusetts have given the Catholic Church 10 years of service as we celebrate our 25th anniversary.

It was the snow storm of storms. I'll never forget it for what it took away from me. But then, look at all I've taken away from New Bedford!

-- Rev. Henry F. O'Brien, Fairhope, Ala.

My first job after college graduation was at a small computer company in Newton, so I was doing the daily Route 128 commute. The forecast was for a significant amount of snow, but I don't remember that it was going to be the Perfect Storm of blizzards. The company was working against a project deadline and we were reluctant to leave, so we didn't shut down until mid-afternoon. By then, there was already several inches down and the weather reporters were now calling for a worse storm than earlier predicted.

The traffic south on 128 was inching along and after an hour, I had only made it down to the Dedham area. I didn't think that I would be able to make it on the highway, so I decided to try to work my way home using the back roads. Two hours later, I had made it to the Canton-Stoughton line to an area called Cobb's Corner. It was well after nightfall and the road was jammed with stuck vehicles. I started walking and soon made it into a neighborhood gas station. There was already about a dozen people stranded there, including a very distressed pregnant woman. Fortunately, the last moving vehicle was an emergency truck that got her to a hospital. Around 10 p.m., I was in the process of re-stacking some cases of oil for a make-shift bed when someone stuck his head in the door to announce that he had a condo just down the street and could accommodate eight people. I was the first one out that door.

Just down the street turned out to be about a quarter mile hike in a blinding blizzard, but I thought that a condo would be a lot more comfortable than a gas station, although, at the time, I really wasn't sure what a condo was. We were quite the mix of people, but all happy to be waiting out the storm in a home instead of a gas station. As one of the youngest there, I slept on the floor that night. All we could really do the next day was watch it continue to snow and watch the news, until the power went out around mid-day. My worst memory of that day was getting into a poker game with a 64-year-old woman who managed to beat me out of everything but the clothes I was wearing within a half hour.

By dawn the next day, the snow had stopped, but it was higher that the first floor, so the storm doors couldn't open. I decided to remove the storm door panels and shovel the snow in to clear it, with one problem: "Shovel? I don't own a shovel. This is a condo." The plan was still a good one, so we cleared out the snow with a couple of tennis rackets. Once outside, I managed to find my car only by the tip of a CB antenna sticking out of the snow; everything else was covered. I retrieved a shovel from the trunk, cleared a two-foot space around the car, put the key in the ignition and left a note on the windshield to please leave the car at the gas station I originally stopped at.

I remember walking to a large grocery store in a shopping plaza, intending to restock the condo. The store was just opening with a handful of employees and, after filling a carriage, ended up in an argument with the manager who refused to take a personal check (1978, no credit cards yet).

Back at the condo at 9 am, I said my good-byes and set out to walk back to New Bedford with a man named Sherman from Fall River.

We made our way to Route 138 and walked south for the rest of the morning, occasionally stopping at houses for heat, but always being offered refreshments. By early afternoon, we encountered the first moving vehicle, a regional newspaper delivery truck that graciously offered us a ride and shots of the scotch they were drinking. Ten miles further south, we were walking again, but in a much better mood. Late in the afternoon, our second ride was hearse carrying a body to a Raynham funeral home. By that time, I really didn't mind.

After warming up and make the obligatory phone calls home (I didn't mention the funeral home), we set out again. By the time we got close to Taunton, there was a bit of traffic moving, but we couldn't get a ride. By nightfall, we were at the Route 140-24 overpass, where Sherman and I split up. I got a ride from a highway worker who had been plowing nearly 20 hours straight; he fell asleep twice driving Route 140 south. He dropped me off at the Hathaway Road exit, where I walked to Lukulo's Pizza for my first real meal since the morning (my credit was good), then walked the last mile to get home just before 10 pm.

It was a few days before people were allowed to go back north to retrieve their cars. A phone call to the gas station confirmed my car was there.

There was still a driving ban in place and I had to get a pass from the New Bedford police station. When I got up there, I was very glad that I had left my car the way I had. Essentially, they plowed until they saw (or hit) a car, then attached a tow chain to the first thing they could hook and dragged the car out. Between shoveling around it and leaving the key in the ignition, there was no damage. I remember going back to the gas station and waiting behind a guy who was screaming at the station owner for wanting to charge $10 a day for car storage. When it was my turn, I wrote him the check, thanked him profusely then drove back by the condo to drop off my second thank-you check.

My real lasting memory was how nice people up north were in proportion to the severity of the storm. When we set out, homeowners who saw us walking constantly invited us in for heat and refreshments. The further south we got, the better the conditions got and the less hospitable the people got.

-- Jeffrey Katz, owner Whaling City Software

I was 27 years old and working on the second shift at a Butler Hospital in Providence. On the day the snow began falling I left for work around noon. I didn't start work until 3:15, but the snow had already started and I wanted to give myself extra time to get there.

Even by that time there was quite a bit of snow on 195 westbound and the going was quite slow and visibility was terrible. There were very few vehicles on the road at that time. Just prior to reaching Fall River, it was becoming so deep that the under carriage of my car was skimming over the snow and I had very little traction.

I made it over the Braga Bridge but it was apparent that I was unable to continue both because of the depth and the white-out conditions. I was concerned not only that I might get stuck, but also that there were so few cars on the road that could help me if that happened.

I got off the highway at the Somerset exit. Back at that time there was a Howard Johnson Restaurant and Motor Inn on the east bound side of the highway at the "Lee's River" exit.

I was able to cross over the highway and pull into that lot. This must have been around 1:30 p.m. or so. When I got into the restaurant it was full of travelers who also had pulled off the highway because of the conditions. I was talking to someone who had been traveling eastbound and when I told him where I had been trying to drive to he informed me that even if I continued on I would not have made it to work because the R.I. State Police had closed off the highway at the state line.

I spent the next several hours at the HJ restaurant drinking coffee and watching the news of the storm. I called to work to tell them I wasn't going to make it. I called home to tell my wife I was stranded there in Somerset.

Late in the afternoon, someone came into the restaurant and reported that there was a plow preparing to head eastbound on 195. I can recall the mass exodus from the restaurant with everyone looking to follow the plow. I remember that the driving was manageable following the plow on 195. At the time however, I was living in Acushnet and had to drive 140 north to the King's Highway exit. 140 was not well plowed, and the city streets from King's Highway down Tarkiln Hill Rd. into Acushnet were terrible.

I recall getting home after dark and exhausted from the my failed attempt to get to work on that first day of the blizzard.

It certainly was a day I won't forget!

-- Ron Desnoyers, Fairhaven

I was 23 years old in February of 1978. My husband (God rest his soul) and I resided in an apartment in Waltham. I was 9 months pregnant. As I bent over to make the bed on Saturday night, Feb. 4, my water broke. He came home from work moments later and we drove to Beth Israel Hospital in Boston immediately.

I didn't go into active labor for a few more hours, but the clinic staff kept a close eye on me and my baby. My husband came and went sporadically over the next 39 hours of my active labor. It was quite an ordeal, but since my baby wasn't in any stress the labor was allowed to progress naturally. Finally, at seven minutes before 7 p.m. on Monday evening, Feb. 6, I delivered a 8 lb. 4½ oz. daughter, Danielle. When my husband went home after she was born it was snowing tremendously, but I'm not sure if we missed that it was supposed to get much worse or whether it wasn't forecast that way. He never made it back to the hospital again.

While I was in the hospital, Kitty Dukakis took care of picking up my dirty meal trays. The Red Cross volunteers in a Jeep drove me and my new daughter back to my husband's place of employment (a hotel on 128) where he had been working (cooking) pretty much nonstop since he left me on Monday night.

My new family made it to my parents' home in Bedford by late Friday night and stayed there until the roads were all passable again in about a week. I know I have pictures of my daughter with the giant piles of snow at the end of our driveway, but since my husband passed away last year I haven't looked at them.

-- Jeannie Mazzone, Nashua, NH

Love conquers all....

I remember the day well. The forecast called for snow flurries.

Something worried me about this one, so I asked my boyfriend to take me to work that day. I didn't like driving in the snow.

It started snowing around 11 a.m. that morning and by 2 p.m., the storm had worsened. My place of business was closing and sending everyone home at 2:30 p.m. My boyfriend contacted me from his job site in the north end of Fall River and he told me he was going to leave then and be there as soon as he could. I worked in the south end of the city, which on a normal day would be a 20 minute drive. This was not a normal day.

Meanwhile, the snow was accumulating fast. Everyone at my workplace had gone home except for me and six other stranded co-workers. At 6 that evening, the security guard announced he was going to close the building. Luckily one girl lived close by and she invited us to stay at her apartment until our rides showed up. The six of us girls walked in the blizzard about a half mile to her apartment to wait for our rides. In order for my ride to locate me I gave the guard the phone number and address.

Time was passing and by 8 p.m., my ride had not showed up yet. I was starting to panic because I did not know what was happening to him.

Shortly before 9 p.m. he appeared at the apartment to take me home. It took another hour to drive through the snow-covered streets to our apartment on Eastern Avenue. On our travel home he told how he and a co-worker (Ernie) along with 10 other guys had to lift stranded vehicles off to the side in order to get through. I couldn't believe he was able to make it through this storm on only 1/8 tank of gas.

To our disappointment, we were not able to reach our apartment because the road was blocked off with more stranded cars and an oil truck. After everything my fiancé had been through this day he was not about to move any more vehicles, so we abandoned our van and walked the quarter-mile to our apartment.

Our troubles didn't end there. The next day we headed out to shovel our van and to our dismay the vehicle was gone. We found out it was towed by the City of Fall River and taken to the State Pier.

I guess you could say the Blizzard of '78 changed our lives and strengthened our relationship. We married in August and purchased our first home together and continue to be each others soul mates after 25 years. What a year it was!

-- Judy and Gilly Amaral

The Blizzard of '78 had me recuperating from surgery the week before to remove a cyst. Feeling pretty good and without pain, I had resumed my daily chores, taking care of my husband and 8- and 3-year-old daughters. I didn't realize at the time that I had inadvertently broken the stitches. It was the day before the blizzard and, not realizing why I was bleeding, I lay down a while and it stopped so I carried on, went to work the next day, took care of the laundry, etc.

It had been snowing all day and, after supper sometime, I realized that I was bleeding again, so once again I lay on the couch in hopes that is would slow down. But it didn't seem to be working. I got up, only to pass out on my way back to the couch. Still in control, I told my husband to call the ambulance and my doctor. The ambulance made its way to my house on Sconticut Neck with a snow plow ahead of it to clear the way and to accompany me all the way to St. Luke's.

I was the topic of conversation for a while as the personnel who took very good care of me had to stay and work a double. No one was leaving, no one was coming in to relieve because of the storm.

After emergency surgery, I was well on my way. I will always be grateful for the care I received by the Fairhaven Police Department and the hard-working people at St. Luke's.

-- Gloria Pothier, Fairhaven

I was 12. At my house we were watching the news when suddenly a blue lightning flash occurred. After a few seconds it occurred again. It repeated a few times. We gathered at the window and saw a power line had broken and must've bounced in the street a few times. We were lucky. After us, all the houses on the street were without power.

We called the power company and told them the location of what we knew was one of many problems.

An hour or so later, a plow came down the street (It was early in the blizzard and I guess the DPW was still plowing.) When the driver saw a wire going into the middle of the street he decided to back up. We thought we were lucky to get our portion of the street plowed, but in a few hours it made no difference.

-- William Berry, New Bedford

I was working as an engineer for Ericsson Telecommunications in Framingham at that time. I slept in the building for several days answering the phone and watching Gov. Dukakis on TV. When it was clear to move, I drove my '73 Pinto wagon to Wareham, arriving late at night.

Since I knew I could not travel down my road, Over Jordan, I stopped at the Wareham Police Station. I believe it was an Officer Bourne that let me stay in one of the cells for the remainder of the evening. He followed all the procedures for subjects that are locked up and I was grateful for the room.

-- Barry Du Moulin USCG, Fairhaven, Marine Safety Office Boston.

School had been canceled in Ludington, Mich., for three Mondays in a row because of little snow storms.

But this storm was so bad my husband's work and the whole town had shut down. Bill was hiding in "his room" and the four kids were upstairs playing.

Our daughter, who was 16 months old, was up there jumping around and screaming and yelling with her three older brothers (who promised to watch her and keep her away from the stairs). All of a sudden, she came tumbling down the steps. She cried a little when I picked her up, and wanted to go back upstairs. I told her no and she cried even more.

Her brothers said they would watch her. I said, "Yeah right, like you were just watching her. I don't think so."

Teresa stayed in the living room with me and we watched my soaps. I kept looking at her and checking her eyes and asking if she had a headache like you are supposed to after a fall.

The storm outside was subsiding, but the snow had really piled up. The radio was telling people if they had an emergency to call their doctor first and their office would send the proper help.

I laid Teresa down for her nap, she still seemed fine. About a half an hour later I went in to check on her and she was blue.

I screamed for my husband,who almost broke the door on "his room" down trying to open it, and ran into her room.

I screamed something like, "Go put cold water on her! He took her to the bathroom and started splashing water on her. I dialed up the doctor's office, explained what happened with the fall and her being blue. They said to watch for the snow plow and went to the door to wait.

I can still see the big orange city snow plow barreling toward our house. A cop came running up to the house and helped me take her out to the plow. Both my husband and I wouldn't fit in the snowplow so he was suppose to follow us to the hospital in his Bronco.

The cop handed Teresa to the driver and he started to get in the cab.

The Bronco was snowed in and while Bill was trying to get it out to follow us, the owner of our neighborhood corner store came by and picked him up. He had heard on the scanner we had an emergency and he was on the way to the hospital with a neighborhood kid who had smashed his fingers working on his car, so he came by to see if he could help. So Bill rode with him to the hospital.

In the meantime I asked the cop "Where am I going to sit?" He said "On my lap."

"I said, are you kidding me? "I will break your legs. You sit on my lap!"

So he got out and I climbed in. He sat on my lap with his gun in its holster pointed down at my leg and foot. The gun looked HUGE! So now I am worried about my daughter and thinking man I hope his gun doesn't go off in these close quarters and shoot me in the foot. The stupid things we think of under pressure.

When we got to the hospital, they took us in right away.

Teresa had suffered a slight concussion from the fall down the stairs. I wanted them to keep her overnight, but they said she didn't need to be hospitalized. I wish they had kept her because she had a shaking reaction later when we got home that scared us and we thought we were going to have to take her back to the hospital. But when I called the hospital they told me that was normal.

My husband arrived with the store owner, who gave all of us a ride home.

A few days later I called the American Red Cross and signed up for a CPR class. Better late than never to learn what to do in an emergency.

I was working in Fall River and left a little later than I should have, never imagining the snow would ever get to where it did. I got on the highway at the bottom of Brayton Avenue having to drive to Swansea. I heard on the car radio that the Braga Bridge was closed. As I approached the bridge, I decided at the last minute to try to cross the bridge. I was glad I did; Davol Street was all backed up and a complete mess.

As I crossed the bridge, snow would pile up in front of my car. I would have to back up and go around the pile of snow. Just as I got to the Somerset exit, a snow plow came. I followed it to the Swansea exit, driving with my head out the side window. It took me hours to go the 10 miles.

As I approached my driveway, the snow drifts were huge. I stepped on the gas pedal to drive and go as far up the driveway as possible. Didn't make it. Of all places to get stuck after driving for hours -- sideways at the bottom of my driveway. To this day, I can still envision my wife and four children, standing in the front window, applauding my arrival.

I now live in Palm Springs, Calif. I don't see much snow here except on the mountain tops. That is just where I like it. But I do miss New England from time to time.

-- L. Cardoza, Fall River native now living in Palm Springs, Calif.

I was beginning the second half of my freshman year at Brown University. The Rhode Island governor had to personally call Brown President Howard Swearer to get his commitment that Brown would cancel classes the week of the blizzard.

During our extended break many students partied, but students also helped the Salvation Army and other charitable organizations that were helping those in need. It was a time to connect and do the right thing, whether on campus or in the community.

-- Alan Howard, New Bedford

During the Blizzard of '78, I was 17 years old and lived in Pine Hill Acres on Ivy Road. We were a very close neighborhood and everyone pitched in to help one another. Mrs. Contant was an elderly woman who had had a stroke and wasn't very mobile. A bunch of us got together and decided to go to the IGA store on Ashley Boulevard, about a three-mile trek.

We were going to get supplies for our families and Mrs. Contant. A few of us kids went with three dads with everyone pulling a sled. One of the dads had an extra sled with him. We asked what it was for and they said supplemental rations. We began our trek to IGA in bitter cold. When we finally got to the IGA there wasn't much left but a few loaves of bread, a few gallons of milk, and a whole bunch of canned Spam.

After we loaded up the sleds, we still had two empty sleds. The dads came out with the supplemental rations: enough beer to fill the two sleds.

-- Michele ( Hebert ) Bissonnette, now living in Mattapoisett

Not long ago, Standard Times ran a story about my son, Shayne Lopes. Shayne has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. He is one of Jerry's Kids. He went to UMass Dartmouth, did four great years and graduated, and I'm very proud of him.

Well, in the Blizzard of 1978 I was pregnant with my son Shayne. I was due in April, and the blizzard was in February. At that time we lived in Brockton, me and my two daughters.

There was snow everywhere. People were shoveling snow, and didn't even know where to put it. The snow looked like mountains.

The banks weren't letting anybody cash their checks, unless it was an emergency. Being pregnant was considered an emergency, so I was one of the few that was allowed to cash my check. I went down to the bank, as I went in the door, I felt everyone was watching me. As I approached the teller, I handed her my check. She asked me politely if I would wait a minute, and I nodded my head yes. Before I knew it, the manager of the bank came over to me and as he approached me I heard him say "You sure are pregnant." Before I could say anything he said he was sorry for the delay. He said he wanted to make sure I was really pregnant; because a short time before I got there a few people came in pretending to be pregnant, so they could cash their checks. They had put pillows under their shirts to make it look like they were pregnant.

-- Frances Lopes, Wareham

I will never forget the Blizzard of 1978. I was a geriatric nurse and was going on duty that day. Like all cars, mine was buried and the roads were impassable.

I received a phone call that informed me that National Guard trucks would be picking up people at designated street corners. That morning, one of my aides and I were at a designated corner and were picked up by the National Guards. Trying to get into the back of the truck was an experience. We were helped on and helped others to get aboard.

Everyone was kind and helpful and in good spirits.

-- Elsie Almeida, New Bedford

I will never forget the Blizzard of 78. At the time I was the Associate Commissioner of the MassHighway in charge of all state construction.

I had to leave New Bedford and head to Boston the next day because of the ban placed on travel by then Governor Dukakis.

I found myself the only vehicle on most of the trip to Boston. It was an eerie feeling being on a highway with no other cars.

Occasionally on the way I would see a part of a car showing in a snowbank on the side of the road.

I would stop and clear enough of the windows to see if there was anyone inside.

I remember the governor calling out the National Guard to help clear highways. Some things you will always remember.

-- Charles Franklin, New Bedford

On the morning the storm began, I was allowed to leave work (Somerset South Middle School) at 10 a.m. After picking up my wife and 2-year-old daughter at her sister's, I headed for Dartmouth in my 1969 Mustang Mach I (not a good snow car). It was so slippery and windy, I could feel the car moving sideways when stopped in line.

There was a long traffic tie-up on Route 79 near the Braga Bridge as cars tried to get to the ramps to Providence or the Cape on Interstate 195.

We were stopped for many minutes while those ahead took their chances on the ramp. Some made it, some didn't and the cars clogged the openings to the highway.

A few cars ahead in line, a Volkswagen was spinning its wheels at the foot of the ramp. Five or six men left their cars and simply picked up the Volkswagen and moved it to the side of the road. The driver joined one of them in another car.

I finally had my turn. There wasn't much room to get by at the top of the ramp. I could only floor the Mustang in low and hope. We fishtailed all the way up and luckily squeezed by the stalled cars that littered the top of the hill.

We all cheered and slowly made our way to our Dartmouth home. Although it had only been snowing for about 2½ hours, I had to shovel out my garage doors to get my car in.

-- Arthur Thibodeau, North Dartmouth

I recall the Blizzard of '78," as I was on duty with my partner Staff Sgt. Jack Aiman on the 3:30 p.m.-12 a.m. shift with the 102 Security Police FLT at Otis Air National Guard base.

We were stationed at the Central Security Control Building in the alert aircraft area when the storm hit us. To my knowledge, the only people on duty were the fire department, Control Tower Operation Dispatch Center, two alert pilots and two crew chiefs.

The base was completely shut down as it was impossible to get to Otis because of heavy snow and very poor visibility.

On the second day of this storm, the alert pilots had to scramble their jets. The runways were icy and the covered with 4 to 6 feet drifts, but they managed to take off. Upon completing their mission, they could not return because of the severity of the storm. They headed off to Graffis Air Force Base.

After three days, weather conditions improved. Tugs and snow plows started cleaning roads and runways at Otis. Otis personnel who were able started arriving after local and state police were asked to assist their people reporting to Otis.

After three days, my partner and I were relieved of duty and we both headed home to New Bedford.

I was stopped by State Police and asked what I was doing on the highway. I stated that I had been on duty for three straight days and I was heading home. The trooper replied: "Go ahead, sergeant, and drive safely."

I drove to Bullard Street in the North End of New Bedford. I could not see my porch or driveway, so I drove my car into a huge snow bank by Adrian's Department store and left it.

This was one snow storm I will never forget. In my 28 years of service at Otis, I had never seen anything like that Blizzard of '78.

-- Richard J. Simmons, New Bedford

I remember the Blizzard of 78. I was 23, living and working in Assonet.

I remember going to work at Concord Sportswear at Mill Street in Assonet. It was very hard driving and I kept getting stuck.

By the time I got to work I was soaking wet from getting my car unstuck. So, I told my boss that I had to go home and get some dry clothes, but by the time I got home my car got stuck in my driveway.

I had to leave it there for a couple of days until my brothers dug it out. We weren't even allowed to drive on the road, anyway.

If you needed anything at the store you had to walk to the Fall River line and catch a bus, because they were the only thing running but they didn't come into Assonet. Even though everything was covered in snow it still looked quite beautiful.

-- Diane Mathias, Fall River

I live in New Bedford, but I worked in Brockton.

The day of the storm, I had lots of work. I usually come home after 11 o'clock at night. But this day it was snowing, so I got my car from the parking lot across the street and parked it under the building in the alleyway. Every so often I went and looked out the window and the snow was piling up. I went to bed.

When I got up, I could not believe what my eyes saw. I walked through the alley under the second floor building to my car and the snow was so high. All you could see was meter heads striking out of the snow, the plows plowed all the snow was near my car.

I made no move to shovel the snow near my car, I came back to the print shop -- Liberty Printing Co. Inc. I put the radio on and (it said) there was an emergency. The city wanted no one on the road because of plowing.

After three days in Brockton, we ran out of food, I had a bed, there was a shower, refrigerator, because of work (in those days you could work night and day; business was good.)

I started out my way home. I was lucky because I had no interference with anyone. The roads were clear, but the parking lots had snow piled up in sections, easily 12 feet high.

When I arrived in New Bedford, I would not take the chance of parking on Phillips Avenue, so I drove to Hatch Street, where my daughter, Sharon, lives, because her driveway was cleaned.. Thank God for My Bread Bakery Co. They hired contractors with snow removal equipment. Because I lived across the street, they removed the snow in front of my house.

-- Walter Cybulski, New Bedford

I am writing this letter on behalf of my grandfather. His name is Harry Robinson.

He is an 81-year-old man. At the time of this blizzard he was 57 years old.

Harry worked for a trucking company called Harriot Transport Inc. As a trucker he would be gone a couple of days out of the week. His route was to New Jersey.

On the day of the snowstorm, Harry was on the route back to Massachusetts from New Jersey when his truck could not go any further than Cranston, R.I.

Although there was a hotel right off the highway, because of the storm there was no vacancy.

Harry lived out his truck for six days, without a single complaint from him. That is why Harriet Transport Inc. presented him a certificate.

-- Curt Robinson, New Bedford

I was the General Manager of the Cape Cod Times then, living about two miles from work, outside of Hyannis.

Upon walking in the morning after the blizzard, there were a few inches of snow on the ground. As usual, we turned on Channel 5 to catch the morning news and Good Morning America.

We were quite surprised to hear official warnings to "stay off the roads except for emergencies" and that the Commonwealth of Massachusetts was literally shut down because of heavy snow and blocked streets and highways.

It seemed rather silly to me to stay away from work (you know how us newspaper people are) when the snow was barely over the tops of my shoes, and so I risked life, limb and possible arrest for violating the "stay at home order", and when to the office with little or no difficulty.

Bottom line for the day was that to the best of my memory only one Cape Cod Times staffer did not make it to work on that day-he lived in Sandwich and was snowed in.

For the rest of us on the central and outer Cape, it was just another snowy winter that offered little resistance to our normal routine.

It was quite a shock to find out later how bad it was for nearly everyone else in the entire state.

-- Orren Robbins, South DartmouthSeems to be that the morning of Feb. 6, 1978 was fairly clear and no problems expected.

My wife was ready to deliver our third child and we headed for St. Anne's Hospital in Fall River.

We had two other children at home. (I don't remember who was watching them or what). By the end of the day I could not drive out to visit at the hospital and sometime during the evening our youngest boy was born.

The next day, the Swansea police took me to see the wife and babe. I stayed as long as I dared and proceeded on foot to the Braga Bridge, where my friend Armand Petrosso picked me up and took me home.

-- Edmund Banville, Swansea

I always hated my blue Ambassador, although maybe it was because I'd adored my huge white Cadillac -- "Moby Dick" -- brought for $500 and lasting six years. It had bit the dust five months before, after taking me back and forth daily to SMU classes since 1976.

My new transport was trouble from the beginning with monthly repair bills and a lot of angry teeth-grinding.

On the day of the '78 blizzard I was so intent with my German and art history classes that I paid little attention to the falling snow -- until I opened the lower door of Building VI (SMU) and made my way to the parking lot and discovered the snow was swirling and thickly piling between the surrounding trees.

My car started with its unusual difficulty and swiveled into the circle road where, to my amazement, cars were lined up and barely moving. We crawled along, with my windshield wipers going "thud-thud," and then we stopped. We stopped a long time. I wondered if I should return to the university, but when my eyes searched for the library it had totally disappeared in a curtain of white. I decided to stay where I was. I felt frightened.

Two cars in front of me had run out of gas and their waving us around their vehicles. Threading my way past, I hit that glazed center of the road. The Ambassador fish-tailed violently an my car glided off the road and down a shallow bank, where it stuck.

I thought I was going to be there forever, frozen to the steering wheel of my monstrous, stupid, vehicle, but instantly six young men sprang out of stationary trucks and cars and within minutes had heaved me back onto the road.

I was no pretty blonde, just a 47-year-old mom, but they all gave me huge grins and thumbs-up signs. I lurched onward mouthing thanks and thinking how disasters invariably lead to human kindnesses rarely seen at other times.

Eventually, we left the SMU campus, stopping and starting and with the gas gauge running on empty. At the corner of Route 6 I eased into the local gas station. Did I have enough money with me? I breathed for relief; not for a full tank, but enough to get home.

The traffic lights could hardly be seen throughout the falling snow, but I finally got on I-195.

I remembered my husband's advice. In heavy snow and fading light cut, speed to 25 miles per hour. I chugged along, with maniacs passing we slow-pokes in the inside lane, at 40-50 miles per hour and had the satisfaction of seeing them in the median a couple miles up the road with blue lights flashing nearby.

How good it was to turn into our own driveway and, as I did, the engine died. But it didn't matter. I was home.

-- Maggi Peirce, Fairhaven

I left that morning at 5:30 a.m. for my 60-mile drive to my place of employment, GTE in Needham. I don't recall any mention of snow on the radio that morning. Later that morning, a friend informed me while we were at coffee break, that his wife had called and suggested him leaving work for it was snowing very hard. Her call was from Fall River. A second call from her reassured him that it was snowing heavily.

It was now 11 a.m. I pondered this news and reminded myself that I was pretty used to driving in all sorts of weather, with 15 years of experience up to this point. At about 12:20 p.m. I informed my boss that I was leaving. He thought the idea was a bit premature and told me that I would have to make up the time. I then left and headed down Route 128. Cars were skidding, but still I didn't think it was that serious.

An hour later as I turned on Route 24, I witnessed a complete whiteout. It was a mass of winter white terrain. The median had long disappeared. Where the highway started and ended was my guess.

The many stalled cars enabled me to weave in and out and that kept me on course. I kept telling myself not to stop for anything. If I did that would certainly spell trouble. I relied on landmarks that I have to know for all my years of travel on this road. And there was my compass. All the way down Route 140 I did not remember passing a moving car.

What ordinarily took one hour to drive on that day took seven hours. Who would have thought that when I pulled my car into my driveway it wouldn't leave again for two weeks.

On the news the next day I learned that some people actually died in their cars. I often wonder if those car I weaved my way through held those unfortunate persons.

-- Louis Surprenant, New Bedford

I shall never forget the Blizzard of 1978. My husband, Alfred DeFreitas, who was vice president of Trina, Inc. in Fall River decided to send the 350 employees home early as the snow was worsening. My daughter, Debra, worked in accounts receivable. I was personnel manager Finally, we all made it to our car.

It was very difficult trying to get home to New Bedford. The roads weren't plowed yet. We were stuck on the highway bridge. The cars were stalled. Debra got out and yelled to the cars, "Let's push." Willing workers helped free the cars and we all started up again. We had a rough ride home. We were hardly able to see the cars as the car skidded down the road.

We stayed home from work for a week. All vehicles were banned except the most necessary ones. We suffered blackouts and had to walk to stores, which happen to be in short supply.

The irony was that my daughter, Karen, was getting married on Feb. 18 at St. Mary's Church in New Bedford. The reception was at The Condessa in Fall River. She was a nurse at Truesdale Hospital and was picked up for work every day by a special Jeep.

When it began to flurry yet again, she hung huge rosary beads on the front porch praying for a good day. Leo, the groom, and her Dad went to shovel around the church entrance. A limousine arrived to pick up my 3-year-old granddaughter, Cynthia, and me. Cynthia was the flower girl. As soon as the door opened, she ran out and fell into a snow bank. I rushed out to pick her up and got my new, expensive aqua "Mother of the Bride" gown wet at the hem with slush and snow. I happily walked down the aisle with my dress sloshing around my ankles and wet shoes.

I remember preaching to my daughter who changed her wedding date from May 6 to Feb. 18 that she would be up to her neck in snow. This proved to be all too true, and we had to pay for 36 dinners for people who couldn't attend.

It will be her 25th wedding anniversary this Feb. 18. All's well that ends well!

-- Doris DeFreitas, New Bedford

I was off duty the day the storm started. Tuesday, I got up at 5 a.m., intending to shovel the path to the garage to start my snow thrower, but I couldn't even open my storm door. I kept pushing it against the snow. When I could finally squeeze through the opening I attempted to shovel off the back porch--but gave up.

Then I called my favorite taxi cab and was laughed at -- no taxi company was operating. Then I called the Brockton Police Department to see if streets were open. I got a negative response, but was asked was why I wanted to know. I replied I had to get to work. I was a Head Nurse at an acute psychiatric admission unit at the Brockton VA Hospital.

They questioned where I lived and could I make it to Warren Avenue: three blocks down from my house. Arrangements were made for me to meet "them" at noon. Knee deep in snow, I walked and slid for three blocks . There, awaiting me were a police officer and owner of a four-wheel-drive pickup truck.

I arrived at Brockton VA-Medical Center at 2 p.m. I worked 16 hours that first day and was there through Friday. Then the U.S. Army trucks shuttled us to within walking distance of our homes.

-- Ruth L. Hall, Marion

I was living in Revere at the time, and I found it to be one of the most memorable times of my life. People were helping people.

It did not matter if you were rich or poor, driving a Mercedes or a '66 Chevy; we were all stranded. There was only one supermarket open, which was a good mile and a half down the road. We took a sled to get there.

It took forever to get there. I was cold, the snow was way up in our knees, but it was actually an adventure. We finally arrived and put our purchases on the sled. Finally we made it safely, even though it took hours.

Everyone was stranded, but it gave us the time to get to know our neighbors and share with them whatever we had. The world just stopped for everyone, but we all stood together. It's too bad that it took a blizzard to bring out the best in people, but if that's what it takes to slow everyone down and came together, I actually welcome another blizzard.

-- Louise Katz, New Bedford

The Blizzard of 78 was an exhilarating and exhausting experience of a lifetime. The memory of this incredible phenomenon is still clear in my mind.

At the time, I was working in Raynham as a manager of a store for woman's clothes.

As everyone is aware, Route 140 is a somewhat monotonous ride. But on this morning in February, it seemed exceptionally busy with more cars than usual.

That was until late morning, when the sky opened up. It was kind of ironic that on this morning I was in the process of displaying our new spring fashions and bathing suits when I looked outside at the exceptionally large snowflakes falling at quite a clip.

To put it mildly, I am not fond of driving in any kind of snow. At the time, I had a little nuisance of a car, an Opel GT that was as good in the snow as a go-cart with no brakes. After numerous calls to our home office, I finally got the green light to close the store early.

Next was the dreaded ride home. I took a deep breath, said a little prayer and ventured out in the wild, white yonder. The streets were already piling up with snow, and Route 140 had not yet been plowed. The usual high-speed lane was reduced to 30 miles per hour, if that. Everyone was following each other in the same tire tracks. The other side of the road was just drifts of rapidly heaping snow. The usual half-hour ride turned into an hour and a half. When I finally arrived in New Bedford the site was overwhelming, with snow already piling as high as my knees.! I literally slid in the front door, locked it behind me and watched my city being swallowed up by this monster of white.

The next morning, the front of my house was inaccessible; the snowdrifts so high we could not even open the front door. We finally ventured out by the back door to see nothing but white as high as several feet. Because the drifts were higher in some spots than others, my little car, however, was hardly covered. How uncanny. I got out my camera and took some pictures, as I knew this was a truly historical event.

-- Kathleen Nemer, New Bedford

At 11:30 a.m. on Feb. 6, 1979, my wife, Nancy, pregnant with our second child, was at her doctor for an appointment. Snow really hadn't started. The doctor decided that she should go to the hospital (she was close to her due date) and she had a little case of toxemia.

When we arrived at St. Luke's at 12:30 p.m. on Feb. 6, 1978, flakes were swirling about.

We checked her in and started the wait for the birth of what was to be our first boy.

By 2:30 p.m., the snow was falling so hard and fast that I could not see the cars in the doctors' parking lot from the window of my waiting room. My son, Michael, was born at 9:40 p.m. that night. By that time, we had blizzard conditions. My car was at home (friends drove us to the hospital) and I couldn't even walk, the snow was so bad.

Some of the nurses were working an extra shift because a lot of the 11 p.m.-7 a.m. crew couldn't get to work.

The National Guard was bringing people to and from work in big trucks.

Having to stay overnight at the hospital, a nurse gave me a pillow and a blanket. I took a cushion off of a gurney and slept under a heating duct in a spare room.

-- Joe Muraco, New Bedford

I sure remember that storm. My parents ran a dairy farm in Acushnet. I grew up facing adversity. the Sunday night news said we were in for a nor'easter that would be coming in on Monday morning and it would be wise to get your fuel and batteries ready and your errands done early. It was another facet of life in New England, I thought. After all, it was winter, and I had snow tires and a snow shovel in the back of my '67 Ford, a great slush buster I picked up for $250.

At the time I had a second shift job in Waltham. In winter I would rent an apartment during the week to be near work as there wasn't much going on at the farm and the money was a lot better up there. It was also a way to exercise my independence.

I was in my 20s then and took more pride in how I looked and how other people perceived me. I had a membership at George's Gym on Viall Street in the South End and I would go work out a couple times a week.

I left for the gym at 7:30 a.m. driving down Route 18 to Cove Road. A little after 8 a.m. I was listening to the radio as I parked the car. They said it was snowing like crazy in Providence and that it would be here soon. I said to myself, no problem. I will do the quickie workout, take a shower and head back home. I reached in the back seat and grabbed my gym bag and took another look at my snow shovel.

I got down into the gym, set up the weights and began to pump out sets. By 8:25 a couple of other guys showed up with two inches of snow on their hats and shoulders. They told me that it was really coming down. I ran outside and looked into the street and it was practically a whiteout. I ran back in, gathered up my stuff and left.

By 8:45 I was on Route 18 north following the yellow light of a plow. Cars were stuck and spinning off the road already. At 9:30, after a lot of slipping, sliding and wheel spinning I made it back to Acushnet and tried to barge into the driveway. I got about 20 feet off the street and got hung up in a drift. I made it the rest of the way on foot.

I got in the house, shook off and turned on the radio. The guy was now saying everything was canceled and stay put. I was better off than most I though because I made it back home. There I stayed for two days, occasionally venturing out for short periods of futility.

I called work about the middle of the week to find out what was going on up there. Some people did show up Monday afternoon and they were still there. They told me the next week they slept in the cafeteria and ate out of supplies they found in the kitchen. They got paid overtime the whole time they were stuck there. I was glad I got stuck at home.

-- Edward Zyskowski, Acushnet

I was ill at home with the flu and a respiratory infection, and had finished medication previously prescribed.

I called my physician, Dr. Zippalli, and, over the phone, he renewed my prescription with Bettencourt Pharmacy. The doctor also made arrangements with the National Guard to have my medication delivered to my home. My meds were delivered three hours later and I was on my way to getting well.

I was ever so grateful, thanks to the above people. Being ill was one problem, the other was disappointment because I like the snow and I wasn't able to go outside after the storm and enjoy the sunny, clean-air days that followed!

-- Jean O. Gonsalves, New Bedford

My husband dropped me off at St. Luke's Hospital for my daily visit with my daughter, Louise. She had already spent three weeks there recovering from back surgery.

Everybody thought the storm would hit later on in the day, but by mid-afternoon, a call from my husband quickly brought me to attention! He almost got stuck on Route 18 (with many others) but he made it home, sadly realizing that he would not be able to pick me up. I was stuck! I couldn't get home. (Years later I wondered why I felt that desperate need to get home).

So, there I stood at the entrance asking everyone who left, "Are you going to Acushnet?" The answer was always, "No, sorry." One more, I thought, then I shall go back inside with Louise to stay. Then along came Larry, an X-ray technician and he said, "Yes".

He had to take another worker home to the South End of New Bedford first, and all I could think was that I was going further away! It was getting dark and storming so badly. It was cold, there was no heater in Larry's Volkswagen and we were numb. In back of Buttonwood Park, he left lines of cars in the snow and zigzagged down side streets always heading north. God bless that little VW and Larry's great driving. After a long and scary ride we made it to Acushnet near my street and he let me off to walk and continue to Lunds Corner for himself.

I shall never forget that long cold, fearsome ride and Larry's great kindness to me. I don't know his last name, but if he reads this, he will surely remember our ride!

-- Marjorie Johnson, West Wareham

I believe we had no electricity for at least three days. Everyone in our family was an avid Bruins fan. As I recall, we were waiting for the game Thursday or Friday night. Having no television just wasn't right. What were the men in the family going to do? This was an important game to us.

We had heard different towns had finally gotten electricity and plans were being made as to who's house the men could go to watch the game. Game time was 8 p.m. Finally, news came that on the other side of Route 6, Marion, electricity had been restored and televisions were on. Hot Dog!

The men were on their way at about seven minutes to 8 to a friend's house. Just when they were ready to go we got a blink and a flicker and electricity was on. How great! With the weather outside, we'd rather be home watching our favorite hockey team in the comfort of our home.

-- K.G., Fairhaven

The morning was fine, nothing unusual, no storm warning that I was aware of and I had the radio on on the way to work. I worked with my sister at Coppercraft Guild in Taunton and we lived in Fall River on King Philip Street.

That morning it started to snow, and by 3 p.m. our boss, Chuck McIssac said those of us who lived far away could go home if we wanted to. We looked at each other and looked out the window. It wasn't much snow accumulated, so we decided to stay the last half hour and make it the whole day's work.

The ride home from Taunton to the Somerset-Fall River line wasn't bad. I drove slowly, so it took us a little longer. We were on Davol Street when I remembered looking at the gas gage and noticing we only had a quarter of a tank of gas. We had to go around the block to the nearest gas station to fill up. It took us one whole hour to go around the block to get gas.

As we approached the top of the bridge on Route 79 the traffic was came to a standstill. There were all kinds of people walking around, women with babies, older people. We felt we had no choice but to leave the car on the middle of the bridge.

We began our walk home. We made it to the corner of Broadway and Columbia Street OK. We decided to go a bit further up to the corner of Broadway and Middle Street. The distance between Columbia and Middle streets was full of stranded cars. We stopped at the corner variety store, which is now Silvia's Florist on Broadway to call home. It was now 6 p.m.

We told mom we were OK and we were walking home but it would take us a while. Mom was happy to hear from us and informed us that my husband and brother were out looking for us.

Together we gathered enough courage to make it to the Globe Corners. At the time, we could only take it one block at a time we weren't sure if we could make it all the way home. The stretch between Middle Street and the Globe corners was the worst. It was so windy and deserted, we felt we were the only ones on the street.

When we made it to the Globe corners, we said "Hey, we can make it to Slade Street." There seemed to be more people walking around and the wind wasn't as bad. When we got to Slade Street, we said, "Hey we can make it all the way home to King Philip Street." We were quietly saying our prayers along the way, asking God to give us strength to make it all the way home.

We made it home by 7 p.m. Mom rushed us to the boiler room (the warmest room in the house), Helped us take off our frozen and wet clothes and changed into warm clothes.

Of course for days and months all we talked about was all the ifs that could have been different. Everyone had a similar story, but ours actually came down to strength and perseverance, none like I've ever had to deal with again.

-- Mary Jo Rebello, Assonet

I am currently living in Southern New Hampshire, where out of any window I can see at least three feet of snow in my yard with piles much higher in other places. I don't get too excited about snowstorms. I don't run to the store for the proverbial milk and bread, but am always set just in case.

During that fateful day, my grandfather picked me up from NBHS and it took us about an hour to get home, when it usually only took 15 minutes with traffic. My mom was already prepared and in a bit of tizzy about what was to come. I read and wrote the rest of the day and into the night while the wind was so forceful that it took part of our antenna down and cracked my window. Still I stayed in bed till morning.

I awoke to my parents having an argument about my father trying to get through to Providence for some fresh produce. This was his life; he worked for State Fruit Co. That day I swear he took the oath of the mail carriers. Even though the state troopers weren't letting anyone on the highways, my determined dad made it to and from Providence safely with his wares, so at least if you could get to the store you could buy something other than the aforementioned bread and milk.

What I remember most was my mom giving my dad a list of provisions he was to pick up when he made his deliveries, and I was supposed to meet him at the top of my street (Alden) and Rockdale Ave., with my sled. I remember waiting for my dad and then loading the sled. For some reason, I felt like the child refugee from Siberia waiting for sacred goods. I successfully made it to the house (it was a dead end street so we hardly ever got plowed).

But the best part was when all the neighbors came out to shovel. It seems like we all emerged at the same time. Everyone worked together to help each other, and the mood was so upbeat and fun that no one went in until all our driveways were shoveled.

-- Pamela Ann Karalekas, New Hampshire

During the Blizzard of '78, I was employed by the Massachusetts Department of Public Works as a highway maintenance foreman. I was the foreman in charge of three maintenance garages: Faunce Corner and State Road in Dartmouth and Braley Road in Freetown.

It snowed on and off for about four days and we accumulated about 36" of snow.

The highway ramps and roads were closed to traffic for about three days while we attempted to clear away the snow. Our section consisted of highways and roads from Fall River to Mattapoisett.

We had approximately 140 plows, 24 sanders and every extra loader that could be hired covering our sections of highway.

The men did not go home for 2-3 days and worked an average of 100 hours that week.

When we could free up some of our equipment we would send them north to Routes 24 and 128 to assist clearing those roads. Crews in that region were using bulldozers to open up a path to free up all of the vehicles that were trapped on the highway and cut at least one lane to Boston. The clean up continued for about two weeks as they attempted to widen the small paths and find drains so that the melted snow would have somewhere to go.

-- Victor Oliveira, Fairhaven

On the morning of Feb. 6, 1978, I woke up in the little sick room next to the kitchen. It was handier to care for a person that was sick. I had a very bad cold. My husband was taking very good care of me. He brought me my breakfast. I didn't feel like eating but it would keep up my strength.

The weather came on my bedside radio: Flurries predicted.

I rested while my husband washed the dishes and swept the floor. What a wonderful sound. Then he stoked the wood fire in my kitchen stove. We burned wood all the time so there was no oil bill.

Then the flurries got deeper. The storm was so bad and I was getting sicker. Then the electricity and phone were off.

My husband put on hip boots and walked in the deep snow until he found a phone. We had no near neighbors, and our car was stuck in the garage at the end of a long driveway.

My daughter and husband came over with their two little kids and drove me to St. Luke's Hospital in Middleboro. There I stayed for several days getting over pneumonia.

-- Dorothy Chace, Lakeville

I was 13½ years old and lived at 791 Brock Ave., New Bedford with both my parents when the blizzard of 78 hit. I hate the snowy weather, but when this storm hit I couldn't stand it. I wasn't able to go to school, couldn't even go over to my friends house, either. I was going crazy having to stay indoors most of the time.

My dad, Walter F. Kowalczyk, wasn't even able to go to work for two weeks at Arrow Auto Body, where he was the foreman. He couldn't even dig out the car for a few days, there were no buses or even any taxi cabs on the road for awhile because of this awful blizzard. My dad's boss was angry with my dad for not being able to get to work for two weeks he decided to only pay my dad $40 instead of his salary. I guess my dad's boss thought that my dad would be able to perform a miracle and appear at work even though there was two feet of snow on the ground.

My mom was even going crazy because everyone was getting on her nerves. All we kept on doing was complaining of the blizzard and couldn't stand staying home. My mom, Vara C. (Sisson) Kowalczyk, said that she would be very glad when everyone would be out of the house, back in school and work because of us driving her crazy. She said that once everything is back to normal she would finally be able to relax and watch her soap operas.

This blizzard was making all of us get on each others' nerves. When everything was back to normal we were all so very happy to be able to finally leave the house and enjoy being outside, at school and at work and mom, well, she was thrilled to finally have a nice, quiet house again.

-- Cynthia A. Kowalczyk, North Dartmouth

My Blizzard of '78 memories:

1. Watching TV every day to see what sweater Gov. Dukakis was wearing.

2. Thinking of all the people who said it never snows in this area. Naturally, all those people were in Florida.

3. Not being able to go to work. My employer was Papa Gino's in Wareham. This was long before they made their own dough. The commissary was on Route 128 in Needham and naturally the trucks couldn't get out.

I also remember that once things could move a little, only the manager's favorite employee's got to work. The rest of us it was tough luck.

It seems to me that we ran out of dough and people got mad, yet they knew full well not much was moving.

-- Barbara R. Smith, Buzzards Bay

I remember it like it was yesterday. I worked at St. Luke's at the time in the kitchen. We were pulling double-shifts and sleepovers. I couldn't drive because the snow was so high, so I had to walk to the emergency route and catch a ride with the National Guard.

The most memorable moment was on that morning when it started to snow, school was let out early and I was running to my car and somehow I dropped my keys in the snow. I couldn't find them anywhere. Luckily, I had a key taped to one of the hoses under my hood and I was able to get home and what a ride it was!

-- Sue St. Pierre New Bedford

I was 8 years old and remember getting ready with my younger sister to go outside. My Mom had these crazy looking snow suits she would put us in. We couldn't wait to get outside, but to do that we had to first try to shovel the snow on the outside of the door to get into the yard.

The first thing we did when we got outside was to head to the shed to dig out the sled. It was still snowing a little. Even with some of the snow drifts reaching my stomach, we still thought it was the best day of all time. Once the sled was brought out, my sister, my mom and myself all headed up to Mac's Soda Bar on Sconticut Neck road for a hot chocolate and a burger -- a ritual we performed any time there was a snow storm.

My mom would pull us on the sled up the street where we used to look forward to the rich-tasting hot chocolate while we were sitting on the bar stools of Mac's, where we felt all grown up. We looked forward to going because there was a wonderful man who worked there named Myles who used to entertain us with magic tricks. Mac's never closed, so we knew that once we got up the hill we could warm up with good company and a great atmosphere.

-- Kathy Paiva, Fairhaven

I was home watching the 12 o'clock news when I heard Art Lake predict a huge snowstorm coming our way. I immediately got in my car to bring my sons (12 and 10) home from school. I'll never forget the looks those teachers gave me. It wasn't even snowing at the time so they were reluctant to let them go. I insisted and told them they should let school out early. On the drive home it started to flurry.

Well, we all know what happened that afternoon with pictures of school buses stranded everywhere. So that is what I remember -- having my sons safe at home.

-- Carmen Graca, Lakeville

I was teaching dance at SMU (UMass Dartmouth) during the Blizzard of '78. I had gone to the university that day on the bus, as I had just left my Volkswagen Beetle at the repair garage for a little work. I started to notice the light snowflakes falling while riding to SMU at about 9:30 am. I thought that I might be able to wrangle a ride home from one of my students if the weather was too snowy by the time I got out of class at 4 p.m.

I was on time for my 11 a.m. class at the gym. For those of you who aren't familiar with the gym, it is a windowless building on campus. I began teaching my dance classes and noticed attendance was down a bit, but never looked outside. Around 1:30 p.m., the janitor came in and said we had to wrap up the class as the school was closing.

I asked and he said, "Have you looked outside lately?" I went to the door and could not believe the snow! It was up to my knees! I quickly wrapped up class and begged a ride from one of my students living in the North End of New Bedford. We left the campus at 2 p.m. and I arrived at my home near Brooklawn Park a little after 4 p.m. -- two hours to get home! It took us nearly an hour to get out of the campus as they let the entire school out and -- oops -- never plowed Ring Road!

My dad was stuck in Westport for the night, but he made it home the next day and ended up having to park his car up near Lunds Corner because all the streets around Brooklawn Park were a no-parking zone. The army came and plowed out Irvington Street. My dad went out with liquor and hot coffee for the boys. I'm not sure if it was THAT combination, the huge banks of snow or their unfamiliarity with our street, but one of the plows hit a fire hydrant and for a second we had a geyser then a beautiful frozen ice sculpture of a water fountain! It took a while to clean THAT up!

I remember walking everywhere that week because we could not drive anywhere and getting to know your neighbor. Everyone was friendly, helpful and open to all offering assistance with shovels, coffee and cheer.

It seemed a kinder, gentler New Bedford. I don't live there anymore, I miss my friends and family, and I never see snow here in the South, but I still keep in touch with the old homestead through the online Standard-Times. Thanks for the memories!

-- Terri Cabral, former manager of Cinema 140 who now lives in Myrtle Beach, S.C.

Oh, the blizzard of '78! -- little did we know what we were in for! I recall weather forecasters predicting snow, and boy did we get it! It was fun at first, kind of a forced vacation -- my husband and I didn't have to go to work, my 6-year-old son had no school -- but as the days passed it started to wear a little thin.

I lived in an apartment on Belleville Road at the time and none of the roads were passable for days. As luck would have it, we were within walking distance of Mars Bargainland, which had a grocery store at the time. My friend, who lived a block away, and I walked to Mars and hauled back as much bread, milk and whatever else we could fit on her son's little sled. At least we didn't go hungry!

But my best memento of this event arrived nine months later, almost to the day, when my second son was born! (I guess you can only watch so many old movies!)

-- Janice Dexter, Fairhaven

My sister was visiting (in Padanaram) when that blizzard buried us. Forty years of California living had erased all but the joy of snowstorm memories. We heard the plow struggling by in the night. The next morning, booted and shoveled, smiling and determined, she fought her way down the back steps and began to trudge in slow motion through deep snow toward the car, which now looked like a frosted cupcake. She gave me a victorious wave, poised the shovel in attack mode and thrust it mercilessly.

"Boing" went the shovel as it smashed into the frozen wake left by the plow. I still don't know today what she was saying as she shook that painful hand. She hibernated until departure day, and waved good-bye to the last snow storm she ever saw.

-- Patt Wampler, New Bedford

Where was I during the Blizzard of '78? I will never forget! I was working in Braintree and about 1:30 p.m., my supervisor called me and said, "Carol, I think you better go home." He said that it was snowing pretty seriously. I did not have a clue as to the seriousness of the storm. I was just happy to be getting out of work early. Little did I know that this was the peak time of the Blizzard of '78. I jumped in my car and proceeded to drive home.

At the time I was driving an old 1969 Olds Cutlass and the radio did not work. I guess that is what saved me. I did not hear any news about the storm, so I did not panic. I prayed to God to get me home safely! Not realizing there were cars stuck up and down the highway, I just kept looking forward and said, "God get me home."

Well, about two and one half hours later I got home safely. Would you believe I got stuck in my driveway? But that was fine with me. After seeing the news and the highways looking like parking lots with cars stranded all over the place, I was lucky to make it home.

-- Carol Pimentel, New Bedford

I was 18 and working in a factory office on Quequechan Street in Fall River. I was watching out the window all day, not knowing really what was happening like we do today. My father owned a car lot up the hill on Second Street and when the boss said we could finally leave, my older brother drove down to get me and tried to drive me home to Somerset where we lived.

We never made it. Traffic was jammed to a halt in the city and we pulled into a parking spot at City Hall (which we later found out was the mayor's spot) and we walked three miles to my brother's girlfriend's apartment. I had on clogs and a skirt. ... it was not fun.

My brother's girl was kind of a party girl and she must have eaten out a lot because the cupboards were bare. By the next day the neighborhood convenience store, the only place close by to shop, had no food except a box of fish stick and a can of clam chowder. For three days, that was all there was to eat. And I remember her Doberman standing over me on the pullout couch each morning when I woke up ... scary to a cat person.

After three days, we decided to walk to my mom's house (about 10 miles). No one was allowed to drive on the roads for about a week, so there was no one out except people cleaning up, trucks with National Guard troops and the like. I remember only seeing antennae sticking out of the mounds of snow on the sides of the roads. It was clean and white everywhere you looked. People were the nicest I can remember in a long time, everyone looking to help one another. It was quite invigorating as we walked.

We got to the my mother's house and all I could smell was mom's spaghetti and meatballs. She had a big pan going and I can remember that it was the most delicious meal of my life at the time.

To this day, every time it snows I run to the store for the ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs. My kids laugh about it and some of the clients in my day care have come to expect the smell and/or ask about it when the snow comes.

-- Kim Parker, New Bedford

My sister and I both worked at a shoe factory in the North End; we lived in the South End.

We didn't look outside to see how much snow was accumulating. When we left at the regular time of 3:30, the wind was howling. I had to clean off all the snow on the car and we proceeded to go home. I made the mistake of offering a ride to this girl that worked with us who usually walked home. I forgot where she lived, but I used to drop her off on the highway near the Glaser Glass exit.

Well, feeling sorry for her, I actually took her home, and then drove through Pleasant Street to go home to the Rockdale Avenue, where we lived. Well, lo and behold, at the intersection of Pleasant just before the fire station, the car wouldn't budge. It was stuck on the hill. My sister and I ended up leaving the car, walking to the bus station -- thank God it was still open -- and taking a bus home and walking the rest of the way from the stop. I ended up having to pay for the towing, and I had to go to the doctor, because I ended up with a eye infection.

-- Berta Mello, New Bedford

I will never forget that day. I was working at the Naval Base in Newport. About 8 in the morning it began to snow and nobody thought too much about it. We did by 11 a.m. They closed the base at 1 in the afternoon and by then it was just too late. I lived in Westport at the time, and it would normally take me only 35-40 minutes to get home, but that day it took me close to four hours.

I was not upset, but just glad to see my driveway and almost made it up the entire way when I bogged down and just parked it right there -- at least I was off the road. I went out the next morning to discover that I could only see the top two inches of the car. We were not allowed to drive for one week and the only vehicle I saw moving was a National Guard jeep picking up a nurse who lived down the road to bring her to work.

I now live in Virginia and have never experienced anything like that again in my life.

-- Ken Costa, formerly of Westport, now of Virginia

Who could forget that storm? After going around helping neighbors, friends and family shovel off their walks, driveways and cars, it was a very tiring day. I live in Dartmouth, but I was in New Bedford at a friend's house when I got a phone call from my daughter. She said "Your boss just called and wants you to come in to work" and he will explain when you get there. I said "yeah, right," thinking she was funning with me. She said " If you don't believe me call him at his house."

The reason that I was skeptical was I was a forest fire fighter, and drove a Brushbreaker out of Myles Standish State Forest in Carver. How do I get there when the governor put a ban on driving on the highways? But I called him, and it was true. He wanted me to get to the forest the best way that I could, take the breaker to the town of Marshfield and the Marshfield Fire Chief would give me orders when I got there.

At about 3 in the afternoon I got up on (the highway) and guess what? It wasn't plowed. I had a '66 Oldsmobile and never thought I would ever get to the forest. There wasn't another car or truck in sight. Sometime I would go straight, and then I would go sideways, back up a few feet and try again. I was about ready to pull to the side of the road and give up when I saw three plows in tandem in back of me. I followed them to Wareham, got on Route. 28 and then it was rough going again when I hit the road leading into the forest.

The breakers carry 1,000 gallons of water, but were empty for the winter. There is no heat in the barn and they would freeze. On the forest road heading for Plymouth, with no water for weight, once again I was slipping and sliding. It took a while, but I finally made it to Marshfield fire station where they filled my tank up with water and took me to a heated DPW garage, where I was to stand by in case of fires. The town had no water pressure because of the storm.

I wish my boss had told me what to expect, because I was there for three days and nights, and went to two house fires. If I knew what I was getting into I would have at least brought a change of clothes. It was an experience, I'll say that much.

-- William Meaney, North Dartmouth

I don't remember what day of the week the blizzard took place, but I remember I had a date with St. Luke's Hospital that morning. What was to be a quick-fix type operation (non-surgical) took even less time than planned. I had a case of both shoulders being affected by adhesive capsulitis. The doctor (Peter Sweetser) had me under anesthesia long enough to manipulate the joints and crack the adhesions. I don't remember the time on the clock when I went in and I don't remember the time on leaving the operating room and recovery room.

The staff told my wife, Joan, to hurry home because of the storm that was just beginning to show its teeth. An ice pack inside the sling was all I had to relieve the pain on the way home. We were still on Route 140 north near Hathaway Road when we realized the snow had drifted to a foot or more in some places on the highway. There were cars stuck all over the place. The plows had not even reached those areas at the time. The center line of the road was covered with snow and you couldn't even guess where the shoulder of the road was.

Joan was not a race track driver at the time, and I suggested she use a low gear on our "new" '72 Chevelle with posi-traction and run right through the snow piles on inclines. Don't stop, steady as she goes! We had to go to the drugstore to pick up some meds for my pain, then she drove home up Acushnet Avenue to Nye's Lane area.

What a deal!. We still talk about it today. I hope the next time we have a blizzard, patients find a hospital closer to home.

Joan is not available as a chauffeur for any more blizzards, thank you.

-- Paul Carrier New Bedford

I was a junior at Providence College at the time. PC, like everything else, was shut down for a whole week -- no classes, no extra-curricular activities, nothing.

After a few days being cooped up in my single dorm room, I decided to trek the three miles to my grandmother's house on the East Side of Providence for a change of scenery (and also for some good Cape Verdean home cooking!)

I distinctly remember two sights.

The first was looking down at Route 95 while walking on an overpass, seeing hundreds of cars frozen in place by all of that massive snow, and everything was totally quiet. I was an English major at PC, and I wrote a poem of what I saw, called "Still Live in the Streets."

The second indelible image occurred a few minutes later, when about eight members of the PC (nationally ranked) track team came running by in all of that snow! Incredibly, they had logged 90 miles of training during that week. As a former long-distance runner and marathoner, I'm still astonished by that feat! (One of those guys was John Treacy, who ultimately won the silver medal in the marathon at the Summer Games in '84 ... no surprise to me, after witnessing that "blizzard training" a few years earlier).

-- Colonel Ray Waters (Ret), Newport, R.I., formerly of Dartmouth

I was 8 at the time, so everything to me was big and magical. I remember we had just moved into our new house about two years before so everything was very new to me. I don't remember when it started to snow, but I do remember the power going out.

My dad made me feel very comfortable with the whole situation. He lit the candles, and we sat back opened the curtains and watched the snow fall and the wind whip the trees along the street. It was amazing to me how much snow came down. I remember being a little scared when I saw the huge pine trees in the front yard of the house swayed a good foot in either direction. I remember how dark it was at 4 in the afternoon and how the darkness was split in the night by the big snow plows as they powered down the street, throwing yard after yard of snow into my driveway.

When it was over I remember how the world looked. I wasn't so very big then and the snow was almost up to my shoulders. We all went out to shovel as best we could. Poor dad had the big shovel and was taking it down to the ground a few inches at a time. He didn't seem to rush -- just slow and steady, with plenty of coffee breaks to keep warm. My sister, Sherry, and I tried to help a little, but we couldn't stay too long and there were hills to sled down and snowballs to make.

Mom helped make snow men and she even sculpted a snow angel in the front yard. We thought it was so cool when she went inside and mixed up colored water and came back and sprayed the angel to life with color and love.

I don't really remember being cold or out of food or power. I remember how close we were and how much fun we had.

-- Stephen Francis, formerly of Acushnet, now of Winston-Salem, N.C.

That storm will stay with me forever.

I was a freshman at New Bedford High and lived in the South End. My bus did not come to pick us up and my friend and I did not know how bad it was going to get when they let us out of school. We decided to walk home. The only problem was that we left school at 2 p.m. and didn't get home until 7 that night.

We hitched a ride with a nice woman and her kids from one block to the next when she got stuck so we just kept on walking home. By the time we made it to Buttonwood Park the snow was up to our knees. By the time we made it to the South End, we were pretty exhausted. There was no one out at all. No cars or people, just us.